“Aye,” he nodded, a touch of envy in his smile. “They’re the same ones. I thought my uncle was powerful, the epitome of knighthood, but when I met Sir Jonathan and Sir Gareth, I knew greatness.”
“Then you want to achieve this same greatness,” she said, correctly interpreting his wish.
“Doesn’t every knight desire this?” he asked, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “The Iron Hawk and his commander had devoted their lives to serve justice. This I must do as well, ever knowing that a knight’s duty is a road filled with hardship and few rewards. Make no mistake, without our combined efforts to uphold honor, courage and integrity, our great kingdom will crumble like dust.”
Chapter 14
As their journey continued, Amelie had surreptitiously glanced over at Derrik, wondering again and again at the wisdom of allowing the knight to accompany her to Wykeham. He seemed sincere in his speech about honor, integrity and justice. But she wasn’t that naïve to think that he cared about her or Lord Stanbury. Once he took her father to the king, Derrik would likely forget that they ever existed.
But then again, Derrik’s impassioned speech earlier set her thoughts racing. What if she was wrong about her father? And so the niggling little doubt that she had cast aside numerous times began to grow. True, she adamantly declared to everyone that her father was innocent. But what if her heart clouded her mind as Derrik suggested? She knew that sometimes her father disagreed with how King Edward handled a situation, or how he governed the kingdom, but was Lord Stanbury discontented enough to try to overthrow the monarch? Perhaps her uncle was correct, and her father really was a traitor. What then? Would all her efforts be of no avail?
But she knew her father, didn’t she? He would never do anything to betray his king or his country. She had hoped that she would find some useful signs at the Healer’s cottage, but she left that place feeling more frustrated than anything. And now she was beginning to question whether the inn keeper would reveal anything new. Perhaps going to Wykeham was a worthless trip after all.
Amelie stared gloomily at the path ahead, the sound of the horses’ hooves thumping on the ground, each step trampling upon her hopes of finding the truth.
Using the shortcut, it usually didn’t take long to get to Wykeham, but after her fall, she was more cautious while riding through the forest. The pain in her arm had lessened to a dull ache, becoming a persistent and nagging reminder of the outcome of her rash behavior. Of course she was lucky that she wasn’t seriously hurt from the tumble. She looked sideways at Derrik and gave a cynical twist to her lips. Unfortunately they were nearing the village, and there was no way she could shake him from her trail. The trees were starting to thin. And a distinct path leading out from the forest became visible, a path forged by dozens of feet and hooves.
But Derrik didn’t notice her look, since his attention was caught by the first glimpse of a wattle and daub dwelling.
“This must be Wykeham,” he said.
The wind started to pick up, and the sky let out a menacing rumble. In the distance and over the swaying trees, lightning flash across the darkened sky.
“Aye,” she said, “I have not been here for many years, but it does not look like the village has grown much.”
“’Tis surprising since I know that the king’s highway is within easy reach of this village.”
“You know this village as well?” Amelie asked, wrinkling for forehead into a frown.
“I have heard of Wykeham,” Derrik gave a careless shrug, “although I have never had the opportunity to visit here. I had an impression that ‘twas larger than ‘tis.”
The two horses plodded into the almost deserted road that lead into the heart of Wykeham. The dozen or so thatched houses were spread apart at the fringe of the village, each house containing a fenced off garden, barn and animal pen. But as they passed through the narrow road and headed toward the village green, the number of houses doubled and sat closer together.
Tucked at the far corner of the green open space was a small white and tidy church. To the right and north of the church were two tracts of land that were reserved for farming. The village had all the necessities that allowed for comfortable living. Still, it was a tiny place when compared to the town of Stanbury. She knew that most of these villagers went to the town of Stanbury on Market Day to sell and buy their goods. But Wykeham also had a thriving commerce, and because of its close proximity to the king’s highway, it attracted weary travelers.
“This is a good place for people to settle their roots as they are not very far from Stanbury and all its conveniences.” She looked over to the farm fields as a gust of wind blew over the wheat shafts, bending them almost in half. “The villagers pay their taxes to my father, and as far as what the bailiff has told me, the serfs here are content.”
A loud boom sounded directly over head. The force of the reverberation caused the ground to tremor and the horses to nervously protest.
“Let us pick up our pace,” she suggested. But she spoke too late. A light drizzle that had just started, came down harder and faster. Within minutes, they and everything around them became drenched in the rain. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, feeling the chill soak through to her skin.
The little activity that occurred in the village when they arrived quickly stopped, and everyone scattered, seeking refuge in the nearby buildings.
Amelie and Derrik urged their horses forward on the uneven, muddy road.
“That must be the inn,” he said, pointing to the large building located just outside the market square. It stood looming near the center of the village, a sturdy, attractive and newly painted structure with a tightly thatched roof. Three windows overlooked the street, and an unmistakable signage at the front, swung back and forth in the wind. It showed a drawing of a crude bed, and the words, faded and barely legible, The Fox Trail Inn ran across the bottom.
Derrik stopped his horse in front of the inn when the stable boy emerged from the entrance and came running in their direction, heedless of the driving rain.
Amelie pulled her hood tightly over her head. With the weather turning worse so quickly, she worried that the conditions would deteriorate further by the time she was ready to leave the village.
“’Tis unlikely that we can return to Stanbury before it gets dark,” Derrik said, voicing the concern that ran through her mind. “The king’s road will be treacherous, and as you know, ‘twould be impossible for us to go back through the forest.” He hesitated as if to gauge her reaction. “The best solution is for us to stay overnight at the inn.”
“You are asking the impossible,” Amelie gasped. “We are not married.”
“That is not a problem. We can pose as a married couple, if that makes you feel any better.”
The color drained from her face, and the suggestion forced a response from her. “Feel better?” she repeated. Turning, she threw a fierce frown at him. “Your suggestion does not make me feel any better. In fact it makes me feel worse, for I know ‘tis a lie. If word ever gets around that I stayed at an inn with you…”
“No one would know that you’re a maiden unless ‘tis you that tell them,” Derrik shrugged, and his expression nonchalant.
She snapped her mouth shut and turned her face away from him. He did have a point, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
He let out a loud sigh. “’Twas your idea to come here in the first place,” he reminded her, his voice slow and modulated as if he spoke to a child. “You would draw more attention to yourself if you showed up at the inn alone.” His eyes traveled over her body. “With your fine cloak and smooth skin, you don’t exactly look like a villein. If your reputation is that important to you, then I suggest we risk the treacherous highway, and return to the castle right now.” He reached over and grabbed her horse’s reins, calming the nervous animal as thunder clapped overhead. He arched a thick eyebrow at her. “Well? What shall it be?” He waited for her to say something, to refute his suggestion, and when s
he remained silent, he nodded his head. “Judging by your lack of response, I believe we’ll continue as husband and wife.” He paused. “In any case, this arrangement will make it easier for us to obtain a room and begin our investigation,” he added as the stable boy stood off to the side, waiting for them to dismount.
“I never invited you to join me in my investigation,” she grumbled.
“’Tis my job to go where I’m uninvited.” Derrik flashed a smile at her that was clearly meant to irritate her further, and slipped off his horse.
“All right,” she said, sending him a look that clearly expressed how she felt about his proposal. “We will do what you say, but under one stipulation,” she gave him a severe look. “You will sleep on the floor.”
He laughed as he untied a small bag from the saddle and slung it over his right shoulder. “I have my own stipulations, but we won’t discuss that right now.”
Before she could ask him what he meant, his hands reached over and grabbed her by her waist, lifting her effortlessly off her saddle, and settling her gently down onto the ground. She stared up at him, all parts of her body frozen. His hands still rested on her hips, lingering there for what felt like an eternity. Once again, she felt the strange heat seeping from his hands, burning through her damp cloak, and sending electrical pulses throughout her system.
“My lady?” he asked. There was something unreadable in his eyes.
She knew she should step away, but she remained where she was, watching as rain splattered on his appealing features. One of the horses snorted as it was being led away by the stable boy, and the noise jerked her back to reality. She moved back just as Derrik dropped his hands. What spell was he weaving around her? This was the second time that she felt the burning, fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know what to make of it. Every time he was near, her heart began to beat so fast that it threatened to leap out of her chest. Perhaps her body was sending physical impulses to warn her against Derrik. That was the only thing that made any sense.
She took a further step back before turning on her heels and running for the inn’s entrance.
***
As Amelie stepped through the open door and into the warm light, she was greeted with the sounds of revelry. Pushing the hood from her head, she brushed the rain from her cloak. A loud cheer drew her attention, and she looked over at the direction of the noise. The left side of the common room was portioned off, and several patrons were clustered in the area. She looked closer, and noticed a grinning, radiant couple who looked as if they were newly married.
A large, welcoming fire burned in an open hearth at the far end of the room. There was a caldron that hung over the fire pit, and a woman, her face red from the hot fire, was busy stirring the pot. The unmistakable rich scent of rabbit stew wafted into Amelie’s nostrils. She hadn’t eaten since this morning, and her stomach rumbled, reminding her of this fact.
“That smells good,” Derrik said beside her, as though he read her thoughts. Raising both hands, he smoothed the rain away from his hair. “I can eat the entire contents of that caldron.”
“You’re in luck,” the rotund inn keeper declared, his voice booming across the room when he saw them standing at the door. A short, fat man bared his yellow teeth at them from behind a counter. His eyes, nose and mouth seemed small and prominent on his fleshy face. He ran his plump fingers over his balding head, and Amelie noted that whatever hair he had lost on his head now grew on his chin. “We have plenty for you to eat.” He looked at their wet clothes, his eyes taking on a greedy sheen, as if he had already calculated their worth. “And a place to lodge for the night, if you require it. Most of the rooms have been let out to the guests that are here for the wedding, but I have one room left for you young lovers.”
“My wife and I will take it,” Derrik said, placing a silver coin on the counter. Then he lowered his voice. “I would appreciate information on a lord that was here a few weeks ago.”
The inn keeper covered the coin with his sausage-like hand and pulled it toward him, the smile on his face fading. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The lord left his horse in your care,” Amelie said. “I know that he was here.”
Derrick narrowed his eyes at her and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
The inn keeper looked down at the shining silver coin, and didn’t notice the warning glance that Derrik sent to Amelie. The man picked up the coin with two fingers. He turned it first to one side and then the other as if he was inspecting it for its authenticity. After a moment, he gave a satisfied grunt and pocketed the coin. “I’m afraid that you didn’t give me enough,” he said, his voice loud. “It will cost you more than that.”
“Will this do?” Amelie said, taking out a coin from the pouch that hung at her belt. Covering the coin with her hand, she pushed it toward the inn keeper. When she lifted her hand away, she revealed another silver coin. The man licked his lips and eagerly palmed it.
“Matilda!” he yelled.
Scowling, the same woman who attended the caldron appeared. She wiped her hands on her apron before fixing her headpiece. “Do you want the stew to burn while I serve all the guests in the tavern and inn?”
The inn keeper colored slightly and placed a hand on his head, rubbing the bald spot. “My Matilda has such a sense of humor!” he chuckled, although the sound that emerged had a false resonance. “Take these good people to the vacant room,” he said, studiously ignoring his wife’s sour look. Perspiration gathered above his upper lip and he wiped at his mouth with a fat hand. “I will be up to see you as soon as I take care of the needs of our wedding patrons.”
“I’d like to know what you’ve been taking care of,” the man’s wife grumbled. She turned to the side counter and picked up a pewter candle holder that held a half melted tallow candle. “Follow me,” she commanded.
The woman led them past the merrymakers and into a dimly lit hall before leading them up rickety, creaking stairs. Guiding them through another narrow passage, she moved past three doors, stopping at the last one at the end of the hall. Slipping her hand into her apron, she produced a key to unlock the door.
“This is your chamber,” the woman said unnecessarily as she swung the door open. Walking ahead of them, she lit a candle that sat on a small side table. Just as the tallow candle caught flame, it began to smoke and a strong, acidic smell filled the room. Giving an irritated cough, the inn keeper’s wife, waved her hand in front of her face. “Everything should be here in the room. But come see me if you need more light.”
“Wait, goodwife,” Amelie said, catching the woman’s sleeve as she turned to leave. Taking Derrik’s lead, she pressed a copper coin into the other woman’s palm. “Your husband knows of a lord that came here a few weeks ago. I am assuming that you were here to witness his arrival as well. What do you remember of him?” She studied her face. “Was there anything unusual that happened the day that he arrived?”
“A few weeks was a long time ago.” She pocketed the coin, although her expression lost some of its hardness. “Dozens of people come through here…lords, ladies, villeins…”
“But you must have seen something. The lord is hard to miss. He is tall, with —”
A cautious look stole over the woman’s face, and she shook her head quickly. “With all the work I have to do, I don’t have time to pay attention to anyone.” She held tightly onto the candle holder. “If you have any questions, James will answer them. And as he told you, he’ll be up to speak with you soon.”
With that, the inn keeper’s wife spun around and made her exit.
Letting out a frustrated breath, Amelie watched the older woman scurry down the hallway and out of sight. She closed the door.
“That was useless,” she said with a sardonic twist to her lips. “Yet still the woman had no misgivings about taking my coin.” She took off her cloak and walked over to the bed, hanging the damp article onto to the bedpost.
; Derrik grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You have a lot to learn in the art of persuasion, my lady.” He moved away from her, and missed the dark look she threw at him. Walking over to the small table at the side of the room, he set his small sack on it. “We should have better luck speaking with the inn keeper,” he said. “All we have to do now is to wait for him to come to us.”
Chapter 15
Amelie moved to the window to look out at the road. The sound of the rain drops that came down were like fast and furious drum beats. The sky had opened up and the heavy curtain of rain fell across the dirt road, flooding the patchy street, and causing everything to take on a brown, murky hue.
No stray animal or human who would dare to venture out right now. And if by chance they happened to be caught in this storm, they would surely be soaked right to the marrow.
She stuck out her hand, just to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming up this terrible weather. But it was with disappointment when the cold rain pelted and splattered onto her flesh, proving without a doubt that this was no dream. Sighing inwardly, she pulled her hand back inside, shaking it to get rid of the excess water.
Amelie didn’t know what to expect from the inn keeper, but she didn’t anticipate having to wait for his audience. As well, there was now a king’s representative constantly attached to her side. No matter what Derrik said, she decided that she didn’t want to lead him to her father. At least not until she discovered the truth.
But what was the truth? Her father had left the castle without a word to anyone. That in itself wasn’t too unusual, however he still hadn’t returned the following day. It felt odd to Amelie, but neither her mother nor John seemed overly concerned by Lord Stanbury’s sudden disappearance. Finally, when she received the disturbing missive from her uncle, Amelie summoned the garrison commander to the great hall.
A Knight's Duty (The Knights of Honor Trilogy, Book 2) Page 9
