To Those Who Never Knew (A Monksblood Bible Novel Book 1)

by Isabella Anton

  “But you must understand. We are at war. And this is neither the time nor place at which you will find sympathy to your situation.” He gave a curt bow and strode away.

  I stood there shell-shocked. He had no right to belittle me. I had just arrived, how was I supposed to know?

  My face went from one of stupefaction to rage. I felt up to the challenge and prompted him back. “On the contrary,” I called out, “the people here have been more than hospitable about my ‘situation’ and I find that it is only you who considers me a nuisance.” My face was on fire with anger and annoyance, while Tristan stood by smirking like an idiot.

  “Well, she has got you there, Bowen.”

  He sauntered back up to us, the muscles in his neck straining with the effort to keep his temper. “You have no idea what is going on in this country. And you are the one that is supposed to bring us salvation?”

  “How did you know?”

  “As you said, the whole castle is abuzz with the news. How are you to help? No magic to speak of, no knowledge of this time, and especially no fighting skills!”

  He had me on all three points. I was making unsteady progress with Master Lewis on the magic front and I had never learned enough about British history to understand the nuances of everything, but about the latter, I knew exactly who to get help from.

  Against my better judgement, as my body screamed in protest at the thought, my mind took the plunge anyway. “Then teach me.”

  Tristan and Bowen’s faces instantly became serious, the nippy sea breeze going from just that to the furthest reaches of the polar caps.

  “What?” The muscles in Bowen’s jaw now constricted in harmony with his neck.

  Is he angry? He should be flattered that I’m asking for his help. “Teach me how to fight.”

  The silence that clung to the damp Welsh air was broken by the cackling laughter of Tristan’s voice, tears actually springing to his eyes from the effort. “Bowen, sir, you should see the look on your face!”

  Bowen stood there in disbelief but I was confident in what I wanted. I had heard the other guardsmen talk about his fighting skills so he seemed like the best person to ask. Even if I didn’t trust him to touch me at the moment, I was willing to put that aside long enough to learn how to defend myself and find a way out of this time. “I’ve heard you are the best fighter in the guard, why shouldn’t I learn from you?”

  “I’m not in the guard,” he corrected me numbly.

  “As a warrior, then. It makes no difference. You are the best and that’s what I need.” Bowen still hadn’t moved an inch compared to Tristan who was now doubled over, his whole body shaking with the effort.

  “Honestly!” I turned to the captain. “Tristan, please, could you stop! I think you’re making him uncomfortable. He hasn’t moved for more than a minute.”

  Tristan did his best, though a few chuckles escaped. “Milady, it is not my laughter that has frozen the man, it is your request.”

  I knew it didn’t make any sense to ask the man who had tortured me to teach me, but I had to work with what I had got. Or maybe it was for a different reason altogether?

  “What? Are women not allowed to fight?”

  “Ack. Aye, they are. Some of the best fighters in the platoons up north are women. It is just…” His snigger came back.

  “Just what? Spit it out, one of you, or I will sic Master Lewis on you both.”

  “It’s just…” I spun around to face Bowen who had finally thawed from his position. “I was cruel—more than cruel—I tortured you. Screamed at you. Cut you. Beat you. Why… why would you ask me to train you?”

  I thought on his question and it felt like my answer would decide whether he would seriously take me on as his student or not. “Because as messed up as this sounds, I trust you to teach me properly.” I barely spent any time with the man, yet I felt like he would put his life on the line to save my own.

  Tristan’s laughter stopped altogether. He and I stood there and waited to hear Bowen’s response.

  “Why not the captain?” Bowen’s eyes were pleading.

  Did he really not want to do this?

  “Because the captain has other matters to attend to,” Tristan chimed.

  “Could I have some time to think about it?” He stood there, confused and with a brooding look carved into his features.

  “Absolutely, but I’d like to start as soon as possible. I’ll be meeting with the High Elders in two months’ time and would like to be able to at least know the common fighting stances.”

  Without ceremony, he nodded and walked away, leaving Tristan and me behind.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Jade? We have other sword masters that can train you.” He was all laughed out, worry now clouding his eyes.

  “No, I need to face him head-on. Plus he’s all the soldiers can talk about right now. I need to show everyone that he hasn’t affected me.” I pulled my cloak tighter to fight off the invisible pull between us.

  “But he has.”

  I left it there. I knew Tristan was right, but even I wasn’t sure how. I didn’t want to convince myself of it.

  We started our way back to the inside warmth of the castle.

  “Why does he need to think about it? It’s an easy yes or no,” I asked.

  “It’s his wife.”

  That stopped me short. “What does that have to do with me? Isn’t she dead?”

  Tristan’s eyes and mouth fell in harmony. It wasn’t just sadness that was now etched onto his face, but also pain.

  “Aye, but it was the last thing she ever asked him, right before…” He didn’t have to say anymore. I understood. I understood that I had just dredged up horrible memories for him.

  XIX.

  Bowen

  Bowen brought the sparring swords back to the armory, his mind far away as he remembered the last days that he had seen his wife.

  “Do you really have to go?” They both sat next to the fireplace, speaking in hushed tones so Jacob and Mary would not wake.

  “Catherine, the King needs his troops and I am their captain.” She was beautiful, her black hair and startlingly blue eyes that were like pooled springs glinted against the crackling fire. Her Irish trill could be heard even at their low volume, her mouth pulled together with worry.

  Her hands flew to his. “You would leave us undefended? Especially when the Brotherhood is right at our door?”

  “Miller Jones is just a league away. If anything happens, call on him.”

  “But what if he cannot come?” She had him there. Though the miller was trustworthy, anything could happen—a pillage, a Brotherhood soldier passing through… In an instant she stood, her resolve set. “When are you leaving?”

  “In a week.”

  “Good. That gives you just enough time to teach me how to defend our home.”

  Bowen stood up too quickly, causing his chair to smack to the ground, both giving a moment’s pause to make sure he hadn’t woken the children.“Catherine–”

  “I don’t want to hear it Roderic. You either teach me or leave me defenceless. It is your choice.” There was no arguing when she used his first name, a final straw she only employed when her determination would not faulter.

  “Very well. We start tomorrow morning.”

  Bowen now sat in the castle chapel, hands folded and head bowed. It was small, reserved only for His Lordship and his family, the others venturing into town for their prayers, but he found solace there. Its high ceiling was painted with a mural of Jesus on the cross, an angel above him weeping. The room was lined with dark wooden pews creating a small stone nave while its walls were adorned with candles and incense, making the room feel even more holy. Perhaps God had the answers he was seeking.

  Why am I hesitating? She needs to be able to defend herself. Perhaps because what happened to
Catherine will happen to her. His thoughts echoed through his mind, back and forth, weighing the pros and cons to taking Jade on as a student.

  No, it won’t happen. She’ll have more time to practice, to get better, to be able to protect herself. But what if she doesn’t. You’ll have killed her. Just like you killed your own wife. I didn’t, it was Finch that– But you did. You didn’t teach her enough. Didn’t have enough time. Just like Jade doesn’t have enough time. They will come for her. And she won’t be prepared.

  Bowen stood and paced the nave of the church. One of the altar boys came to light more candles, the day’s light fading fast from the world.

  But she deserves a chance to try.

  He left the chapel, his mind steady on his decision, and returned to his room to ready for that night’s banquet.

  XX.

  I stood in the middle of my room as Elian moved back to view her work. I wore a floor-length dress the color as green as a forest, with golden patterns embroidered around the bell-shaped sleeves and bottom hem. The neckline was square this time, a design that accentuated my clavicle and breasts. My hair was put half up in a braid while the rest flowed against my back. The only thing that disrupted its progress was a necklace Haf had intricately woven into the plat, its yellow crystal dangling.

  Touching the cuffs, I could feel the smooth ridges of the thread. “Is this… actual gold?”

  “Aye, though we do not usually get so dressed up for the Solstice, your birth anniversary is another matter.”

  “But this dress is ridiculous! How much did it cost?” Turning twenty-one would have been a nonevent were I still in my time, the night spent with friends and perhaps a pub crawl where I would have been offered drink after drink, but here… It was turning into a larger affair than I ever imagined.

  “A fair amount I would believe. Lord Gruffydd is one of the wealthiest men in Wales, excluding the Royal Family, of course. Any other family could live off that dress for twenty-odd years.”

  “Twenty years?” I could feel the rustle of the heavy skirts as they protested my use. I had never really been one for fashion, but this was way out of my league. “Why doesn’t His Lordship put the money to better use?”

  “He could but would not,” she bluntly stated. “Every man loves money, it is what turns the world, so would you not want to keep it that way?”

  Sadly, she had a point. “Still, I don’t think its fair.”

  “Aye,” Elian chimed in, “but Her Ladyship does the best that she can, giving shelter and food to those who need it.”

  Since the beginning of December all anyone could talk about was the coming festival. It was to be a grand affair but now I felt bad that not everyone would be in on the celebrations.

  Haf finally brought my last accessory and put it around my neck: a thin gold chain with a flat disk hung in its middle. Upon closer inspection the disk was imprinted with three ravens and the Welsh dragon with writing on the back.

  “What is this?” I asked, fingering the engraving on the front.

  “The Gruffydd family crest. The dragon is an obvious symbol, but the three ravens stand for the swift, cunningness, and wealth the family brings to this world.”

  “That, or they are sneaky hoarders that pick off the bones of those forgotten,” Elian stated.

  If Haf had a wooden spoon I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had slapped her with it given the way her face looked. “Hush child. His Lordship and Her Ladyship have done well to support you and your family least you forget. Show some loyalty.”

  Elian’s head lowered, her eyes glancing away from both of us, cheeks pink.

  I tore my attention back to the disk, trying to decipher the words on the back, the Tafod spell once again failing me. “And what does this translate to?”

  “Mae’r ddraig goch yn arwain y ffordd.” Her Welsh pronunciation was beautiful. “‘The red dragon leads the way.’” She made final adjustments to my skirts. “Finished.”

  The floor-length polished brass sheet in my room acting as my mirror allowed me to see my transformation. I stood there in awe of myself. For over a month I had rotated wearing the same casual dresses, but this was far beyond casual. I had turned from looking like an ordinary lady of the court to a princess in the blink of an eye. The bodice of the dress held firm against my ribs, the design waxing and waning its way down towards the hem as if it were being blown away by an unforeseen wind. The rest of the folded skirts moved smoothly with my every turn, shimmering against the dull candlelight.

  “Come. We will escort you to the banquet hall,” Haf offered when there was a knock on the door.

  When Elian opened it, there stood Tristan. For a change, his usually frumpy blonde hair was combed back and tied in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. Instead of his captain’s uniform, he donned a thigh-length brown tunic embroidered with green leaves, his tights a darker shade of green. Around his waist a golden-clothed belt held a sword safe at his side. Overall he embodied a majestic tree.

  “Oh, Tristan. You look handsome.” I quickly surveyed myself one last time. “Sorry Haf, Elian, but I promised Tristan he could escort me to the banquet tonight.”

  Haf’s face was a mask of annoyance at not being informed of tonight’s unchaperoned plans, while Elian beamed with a wanting eye. Trying to save what dignity she had for herself, Haf turned up her nose.

  “Come Elian, we must be there to arrange Jade’s seating.”

  Tristan quickly entered the room to get out of Haf’s way before she ran him down.

  “And you,” she stared him right in the eye, “will make sure Milady is well taken care of. Understood?”

  Tristan held his hands up in surrender. “Impeccably.”

  Haf turned back to me, Elian already down the hall waiting for her next instructions. Her face was now as calm as a pool of water. “Enjoy the night, Milady. It is for you after all.” And with that she took her leave.

  With there only being the two of us, the room felt smaller. Tristan’s eyes raked over me in appraisal. “You look lovely, Jade.”

  Blushing, I fiddled with my necklace.

  “Shall we?” He held out his arm and I lightly placed mine on top. Gathering my skirts in the other hand we made our way to the banquet hall.

  I would never have believed anyone could hold such an exquisite feast. Sitting at the head table with my new family, Anwen to my right and the rest of the family lined in succession, we oversaw the meal. Servant after servant brought out roasts of local game that had been freshly killed that morning in sport. The tables were lined with endless dishes of vegetables, the most popular, steamed leeks in something that I would have classified as butter.

  Music and conversation filled the hall. What little space that wasn’t taken up by tables was used to enjoy a traditional Welsh dance that involved its partners to never touch, but for both to twirl, clap, and step in perfect synchronization. The hall itself was jaw dropping. Endless amounts of fabrics were draped along the walls, their festive colors mimicking the holiday spirit in greens, yellows, blues, and reds. Each table was decorated with holly and bur-twigs while mistletoe adorned the chandeliers above, the men unabashedly stealing kisses from any women who passed under it.

  Throughout the night I kept sneaking glances at Bowen. He looked brooding, but when didn’t he?

  Has he decided yet? Should I ask? No, give him time to decide.

  I went back to enjoying my meal and by the time the clock struck past three in the morning, the party had finally begun to die down. Its hosts and occupants slowly trickled to bed while others stayed on, their cups diminishing by the hour. I was bone-dead tired and the food baby in my stomach was making a nice nest. I had planned on walking back to my room with Haf and Elian’s guidance, but Tristan had another idea.

  “Bowen!” Tristan shouted from across the room. Besides them, the only people left were Anwen and s
ome drunken guards.

  Bowen crossed to our side of the hall. The shadows of the slow-coming morning and candlelight danced upon his face, softening it. He was also dressed for the affair. His outfit wasn’t as gaudy as mine or others around: plain slate-colored stockings clung to muscular legs, only for his blue tunic to hide the rest. His build continued into his arms, the fabric pulled tight over them, looking as if they could rip the material at any moment. And like Tristan, he too wore a blade at his side.

  “Yes?” He had his hands clasped at the front of him in a relaxed position, more relaxed than I had ever seen him.

  “I believe you should be the one to escort Jade back to her quarters.” Tristan said with a genuine smile.

  We both stared at the captain, me with shock and Bowen with unease. Haf was about to make a heated protest when Anwen quietly intercepted, Elian following them behind.

  I glanced at Bowen, his crinkled brow going smooth with an affirmative look of acceptance. Why is Tristan doing this?

  Bowen resolutely held out his arm and waited for me to take it. “Shall we?”

  Hesitantly, I placed my hand atop his and when it finally settled, an electric shock struck me. It wasn’t like those I had felt before. This was in recognition, as if there had been some wall between us that only our close proximity had now caused to tumble down. For the first time, my body loosened. His hand was calloused, most likely from all the swordplay, but his grip was gentle. “Lead the way.”

  We walked through the maze of hallways and through the courtyard where the sun was starting its ascent.

  “Jade.” His stare was intense, but there was something there. Maybe it was the light of breaking dawn that made him seem not so threatening in that moment. “I am sorry.”

  “Oh…” We walked in silence through the courtyard as I tried to think of a way to not show my disappointment. I wanted to let go of his arm but instead instinctively grabbed tighter. He felt the reaction, his own hand softening in response. “It’s okay, I can just get Tristan or maybe one of the other guards to teach me–”