Rose Victory - Eagle Series

by Eagle Lady

  His father had planned well, his strategy impeccable. He had known his son and his love for the land. Roydon smiled sadly. If the old earl had been alive, they would have had a monumental argument, but in the end Roydon would have conceded. His love for his father and Eagle Rock would not have allowed him to do else. He would not dishonour his father by breaking his given word.

  His father had won; he would marry as soon as possible. In spite of everything he could not begrudge his sire the victory. The old earl of Eagle Rock would not be there to witness the marriage. Roydon’s eyesight blurred and he brushed the sudden wetness from his cheeks. His father would not be there to hold his grandchildren.

  Chapter Two

  “Will you break your fast, my lord?”

  “Ale, bread and cheese,” the earl replied shortly, barely looking at the servant as he took his seat at the vacant High Table. Never at his best in the morning, today he admitted to himself, his mood resembled that of a cornered boar.

  Already he had snapped and growled at his squire until the boy had given up trying to please him and retreated behind a wall of silence. When that had irritated him too, he had sent Ivan away. Roydon knew his behaviour to be unreasonable and petty. A little devil seemed to be driving him; he could not seem to help himself. He hadn’t slept at all last night, only falling into a fitful doze early this morning, which accounted for his late appearance in the Hall.

  He had woken up with what appeared to be the whole weight of his mountain on his shoulders and an inescapable feeling of being trapped, cornered.

  Impatiently, the earl drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for his meal to arrive. The Hall had already been cleared. Only a few soldiers lingered over their morning meal. Seated on benches near the blazing fire in the hearth, their tired faces proclaimed that they had just finished the night watch.

  The moment the earl’s eyes fell on the men, they jumped to their feet unnerved by their lord’s dark countenance. Bowing respectfully in his direction, they almost run from the hall. Perfect, he thought, now he was even scaring his own soldiers.

  “Your food, my lord.” A servant girl set a platter of bread and cheese before him and poured ale into a goblet, her hand unsteady as she glanced nervously up at him.

  Good Lord! His people had no reason to be afraid of him. Gently Roydon took the flagon from the girl’s hand and set it on the table. “My thanks,” he said trying to put the servant at ease and nodding his dismissal. The girl run towards the steps leading down to the kitchens.

  “Damn it,” the earl swore in exasperation, as he watched the girl disappear down the stairwell. He had done nothing to provoke the girl’s fear. True, his words of gratitude had sounded more of a growl than anything else but it was no reason to run from him and she had been scared before that. Wearily he raked his hair back from his face with his hand. He had not been himself lately, he would be the first to admit it, but with all that had happened since his arrival…

  “Frightening all the pretty girls away?”

  The earl glared at his friend. Deep in his thoughts he had not even noticed Stefan’s arrival. That’s all he needed now, a teasing, jolly conversation before he had even broken his fast. “I did nothing to scare the girl,” he said, trying for a reasonable tone and failing miserably.

  Stefan grinned at him. “No need for you to do anything. The expression on your face is enough to scare the mightiest warrior, let alone a servant.”

  “I don’t see you running.” In spite of himself, Roydon’s lips turned up in the beginnings of a smile.

  “I am immune to your grouchiness, my lord.” Stefan’s feigned look of long suffering patience nearly made the earl choke on his ale. Your squire, on the other hand, is not,” he added sobering.

  Roydon tensed, “Ivan went to you carrying tales?” he asked frowning, a piece of bread arrested halfway to his mouth. Disloyalty he would not tolerate.

  “Nay,” Stefan denied the accusation quickly. “The boy is only ten years old, Roy. He carries his heart on his sleeve, he would never betray you. You are his idol. T’is why, when he came down for training looking so dejected, that I knew something was wrong. He is usually a happy and lively boy.”

  To the earl, his friend’s words sounded like an accusation and indeed he did feel uncomfortable. He had snapped and growled at the boy for no good reason and that was unfair. Misbehaviour merited punishment and Ivan had always accepted it, reluctantly but with grace. His displeasure with him this morning had been undeserved.

  “I will see to the boy, Stefan,” Roydon replied at last, his voice quiet as he rose from his seat. He had to see to a lot more than just his squire, he thought. First he had to get back control of his life. He was a man used to leading, to being in control of the situation. Recent events had been driving him, giving him a sense of impotence he was unused to, hence his uncharacteristic, foul mood. That would change as of this moment.

  The earl turned to his friend who had been watching him closely, a slight smile on his face. “Come along, Stefan, the practise field awaits us.”

  “I have just come from there. In fact I have been there for several hours while you were lazing in your bed this morning.” Stefan had noted his friend’s lighter tone and had responded accordingly.

  An amused glint appeared in Roydon’s dark eyes. “I am not happy with our little skirmish yesterday and now that I am rested I want to finish it to my satisfaction.”

  Stefan sighed dramatically. “Not again, Roy. My arms still ache from your blows.”

  “As do mine, but when has that ever stopped us before?”

  “True,” Stefan admitted, glad to see that his friend had relaxed, his expression no longer tense and forbidding.

  “Come along commander,” Roydon stood halfway to the door already, a thick eyebrow raised in query. “Do I have to drag you to the field?”

  Stefan grinned, “Eager for your thrashing, my lord?” he asked as he followed the earl out the door.

  <><><>

  “Give me a few minutes with Ivan, Stef, I will join you in a moment.” As the commander walked away the earl approached his squire, who sat on a bench at the edge of the training field.

  The boy slouched despondently, his eyes downcast, staring unseeingly at the dusty ground between his boots.

  For a moment Roydon found himself remembering when he had last seen the boy like this. It had been almost a year ago when he had spoken to him just after the boy’s father’s death. Ivan had sat just so, outside the small tent that he had shared with his father.

  Sir Marcus Trent had been a landless knight, a mercenary who had joined the king’s army. He had been a strong and capable man and Roydon had been glad to have him under his command. He had even offered the man a position as a household knight at Eagle Rock when they left the king’s service. Sir Marcus had accepted the younger man’s offer gratefully. He had wanted to provide his motherless son with a permanent home.

  A skirmish against a rebel baron had ended with the knight’s death, leaving his son orphaned and alone. Roydon had felt responsible for the boy, even though Sir Marcus still did not serve his family.

  “You have heard that your father has fallen?” he had asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Ivan had scrambled to his feet but his head remained bowed, his eyes on the ground.

  “Do you have somewhere to go? Is there someone you can go to?”

  “I can take care of myself, sir.” The slight tremble in the boy’s voice did not stop him from straightening his shoulders and looking up directly at Roydon.

  He saw pain and despair in Ivan’s eyes, but also pride and determination awash in tears that he refused to shed. He could see Sir Marcus’ strength of character and purpose in the boy, and his pride Roydon knew, would not allow him to accept charity.

  “I have a problem,” he stated in a neutral voice. “Your father had agreed to accompany me to Eagle Rock as a household knight to my father.”

  The boy nodded, biting his lip in an a
ttempt to stop the tears. “We…we were looking forward to it, Sir Roydon.”

  Roydon turned a blind eye to the boy’s struggle, his voice brisk and impatient he continued. “I have already made arrangements and now I find myself a man short.”

  Ivan bowed his head again. “I am sorry, sir,” his voice a mere whisper, he apologised for what he could never have prevented.

  The knight smiled at the boy’s bowed head. “But if you are prepared to honour your father’s word. I would be willing to wait a few years until you are knighted.” Quickly he wiped the smile from his face before Ivan looked up at him.

  “Sir?” For a moment a tentative ray of hope sparkled in Ivan’s eyes as he looked up at his father’s commander; at the leader of the king’s army. Then it disappeared, “I have no sponsor, sir. No one to teach me, now that my father is…gone.”

  “Hmm… You have a point there, but maybe we could help each other out. My servant is overworked because I do not have a squire,” he improvised on the spur of the moment. “If you were to fill the position you would be helping me out.”

  The boy’s face underwent a transformation, from abject despair to hopeful joy. But before he could say anything, Roydon held up his hand the expression on his face now completely serious. “Think and be sure before you commit yourself. Training for knighthood is not easy and I am a hard task master. I will demand all you can give and then I will ask for more. I will accept nothing less than complete obedience and unstinting loyalty.”

  Ivan looked him in the eye then, his expression equally serious and sober, especially for a nine year old. “My father trusted you, sir. I can do no less,” he said in a surprisingly grownup voice and there in the middle of the noisy camp the boy knelt. “I offer you my service, Sir Roydon.”

  Roydon did not think he would ever forget the look of complete trust and gratitude he had seen in Ivan’s eyes that day.

  And this morning he had abused that trust. Ivan had lived up to his word. No task had ever been too hard or too menial, he always tried his best. Looking at the dark haired boy now, Roydon felt a spurt of affection as he acknowledged that the young scamp had wormed his way into his heart. This was not to say that the boy did not need to grow a thicker skin and learn to take his moods and temper in stride. “Ivan!” he called sharply.

  The boy jumped up startled, the dull practice sword that had been resting on his lap, fell to the ground at his feet. “Your pardon, my lord! I did not see you.” Nervously he glanced up at Roydon’s face, uncertain of his mood and then lowered his eyes to the ground. “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”

  “Look at me for a start; I did not take you for a coward.”

  “I am no coward, my lord!” Ivan’s cobalt blue eyes fairly bristled with anger as he stared at Roydon.

  “So I see,” the earl nodded. “So why the doldrums?” he asked pointing at the bench.

  “I have displeased you, my lord.” The boy spoke softly but he did not glance away. “And I don’t know how or why.”

  “You have not displeased me, Ivan, far from it.” Roydon leaned down and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I was in a bad mood this morning, nothing to do with you.”

  “You are pleased with me, truly? I thought you tired of me, that you would send me away.” The admiration and hero worship in the boy’s gaze humbled the earl.

  “You will not get off that easily. I accepted your service and what is mine I keep,” Roydon paused, unsure how to continue, how to reassure the boy. “But you will also have to learn to take my moods in stride. Like a man, like a knight,” he finished sternly.

  The squire’s face had turned a bright red with pleasure, all his previous gloom forgotten in the knowledge that his lord found favour with him and would not send him away.

  “I have never had a squire before and apparently I have been remiss in not giving you due praise when merited. However, I will also let you know when I am displeased with you. Do you understand me, Ivan?”

  The boy nodded vigorously, “I do, my lord.” The huge smile on Ivan’s face threatened to split it in two.

  A slight tilting of his lips softened the hard contours of the earl’s face; a sense of shared conspiracy and warmth making him forget his troubles for the moment. Then his face lost its smile and settled into a stern expression. “I most certainly do not approve of that.” Roydon pointed at the sword lying on the ground. “No knight ever drops his sword!”

  The squire bent swiftly to retrieve it. “I am sorry, sir. You startled me and…”

  “No excuse,” Roydon said in a hard voice.

  “No excuse, my lord,” Ivan agreed ruefully.

  The earl nodded satisfied. “Now come and I will show you why.”

  A few minutes later the young squire could hardly hold up his sword. His arms ached unbearably and sweat poured down his body. His breath came in irregular gasps but in spite of all this a half grin lingered on his face.

  “The boy seems to like being battered by your sword, my lord.” Stefan had come up to where Roydon instructed his squire, noting Ivan’s exhausted but contented expression.

  “Unlike someone I could mention,” the earl stepped back and lowered his weapon. “I was demonstrating why he should never drop his sword.”

  “Bad idea that. Dropping your sword will get you killed every time,” concurred Stefan seriously.

  “I will never ever drop my sword again, Sir Stefan.” Ivan gratefully lowered his sword tip to the ground and took up the exact same stance as his master.

  “You have done well…”

  A high screeching wail interrupted the earl’s words of praise. Roydon looked up into the sky, indeed everyone in the bailey looked up. This time not one but three eagles circled the sky above the castle. Two remained riding the currents but the third seemed to be diving straight down towards the courtyard, straight for him. Was this the same bird that had challenged him yesterday? It was strange, he had never heard of eagles attacking people on his mountain. Certainly they would never attack a full grown man in the middle of a crowded yard.

  Some instinct made the earl look at the soldiers around him. With horror he saw several of his archers notching arrows onto their bows. They prepared to shoot his eagle! An unfamiliar sense of doom and anxiety swamped Roydon.

  “HOLD!” The earl’s booming shout froze everyone within hearing, their gazes shifting from the descending bird to their lord’s furious face. Only when the archers had lowered their weapons did Roydon look back at the diving eagle. He recognized it. A tingling awareness, a shiver of recognition, coursed through him. He felt fascinated and disturbed at the same time.

  Instinct made Roydon pull up his sword at the last second in a defensive gesture, deep down he knew he would be unable to hurt the eagle. Just as he would allow no one to kill it; the mere thought of any harm befalling the bird made him break out in a cold sweat. He could not understand it but neither could he deny what he felt. A deep possessive sense of ‘mine’ invaded his mind as well as his heart. He could explain it no other way.

  The eagle swerved away at the last instant, without attacking. Again Roydon saw the golden eyes staring intently at him, almost human, they beckoned him to follow.

  The bird flew majestically over the yard and then turned away towards the mountain, her cry calling to Roydon. Something deep inside him wanted to follow.

  A hand on his arm drew the earl’s attention back to the yard. “NO ONE HURTS MY EAGLE,” his voice boomed again across the bailey. “ON PAIN OF DEATH!” he declared, his enormous blade still held over his head. The earl’s indomitable, black stare moved over his people until they bowed their heads in acknowledgement of their lord’s wishes.

  “Roydon…Roy are you alright?”

  The question brought the earl’s focus to his friend; the concern on his face calmed him. “Yes, I just do not want the eagles hurt,” he justified his unprecedented conduct as he sheathed his sword.

  “I think you have made that abundantly clear. I doubt a
nyone will even look at your eagles now, let alone harm them.” Stefan chuckled at the earl’s frown. “Ease up, Roy. It’s only a bird.”

  “She is my eagle,” the possessive ring in Roydon’s voice surprised even himself.

  “She?” Stefan cocked his head to one side. “How can you tell?”

  “She is too big to be a male and her eyes…I just know,” the earl ended lamely.

  “Will she attack again, my lord?” Ivan’s subdued whisper came from behind Roydon where he had taken refuge.

  “The eagle was not attacking. I think she just wanted to get my attention.” At the incredulous looks he received, from both his friend and his squire, the earl smiled ruefully. “At least that is how it felt.” Roydon could not help himself from looking up. A lone eagle still circled above them, its cries faint and somehow lonely, calling him.

  Roydon shook himself, enough of this nonsense. “Stefan, I will have to postpone our little training session. I have urgent need to speak with Brecov.” Resolutely he put the eagle episode behind him. “Ivan, find Master Brecov and have him meet me in the Hall.”

  “Aye, my lord.” The boy scampered off.

  “You have decided?” Stefan asked quietly.

  “There was nothing to decide. My hands are tied.” The grim look on the earl’s face spoke more eloquently than words. “Arrange for an escort, my friend. We leave to collect my bride two days hence. I have to honour my father’s word. I will send a messenger immediately to advice Reinhart of my imminent arrival.”

  “Once you send word there is no going back, Roy.” Stefan spoke seriously, “Reinhart is not a man to cross.”

  “Neither will I break my word once given, or my father’s.”

  As he made his way through the inner bailey and up to the castle, the earl felt the curious stares that were thrown his way. Obviously his strange behaviour on the training field had already spread throughout the Holding. Good, at least the eagle would be safe, even if everyone considered him a madman.