One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy)

by D'Angelo, Dana

  Ava shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “God knows you are a little too different from most people. You used to play sword with the boys rather than focus on your lessons. Even now I suspect that you want to play with weapons, but you are intelligent enough to know that working on softer, more womanly skills is much more desirable.”

  “But you have not answered whether I look like a villein, Ava.” Rowena twirled around in the coarse gown and looked at her nursemaid with uncertainty.

  Ava let out a weary sigh, and sat down on the bed. “Aye, child. You could easily pass as a country maiden, albeit a comely one. However, if someone were to take a closer look at you, they will know that you are not a peasant. You have an unconscious bearing, a bearing that is inborn and that no commoner can emulate.”

  Rowena nodded. “I shall remember that and will be more conscious on how I carry myself.” She frowned. “What do you suppose I should do? Should I hunch my back? Perhaps I should limp a little?”

  “A change of clothes or a physical affliction cannot hide who you are inside, child,” Ava said, rolling her eyes.

  Rowena paid no attention to Ava but stared at the tapestry instead, her eyebrows knitted in thought. Ava put a gentle hand on her arm, reminding her of her presence.

  “Need I remind you that the gates are locked at dusk?” she said. “‘Tis already dark outside, and the porter will not allow you to pass through the gates without good reason.”

  “The porter will not even know whether anyone passes through the gates, seeing that he is likely bloated with drink and probably asleep,” Rowena said.

  “Be that it may be true, however ‘tis still dangerous for a woman to be out wandering outside the castle walls without a chaperone. The outlaws prey on those who are without protection. ‘Tis not safe and I cannot allow you to go alone.”

  Rowena’s eyes flickered with anger. “I did not say that I am leaving the castle walls this night,” she said.

  “You do not have to, child,” Ava said, looking pointedly at the worn tunic on her person. “Your father will more than harm me if I allow you to step out of the protection of this castle.”

  Rowena compressed her lips into a thin angry line, her eyes flashing. Although she didn’t like to admit it, her temper was nearly as great as her father’s. “You need not fear for my safety,” she said. “I can handle a dagger as well as any man.”

  “‘Tis not only your safety that I fear,” Ava said, twisting her white apron. “If your father discovers that I have helped you leave the castle without his consent, he will be furious. I have tried his patience one too many times.”

  “Then do not tell my father anything,” Rowena said sharply. “If he does not know that you have helped me, you can claim innocence and be spared his anger.”

  Ava shook her head as if the suggestion was just too ridiculous to even consider. “‘Tis not as easy as you say,” she said. “I have protected you many times in your young life, too many times to count. But your father has always seen through my lies. He is a very perceptive man.”

  Letting out a sigh of frustration, Rowena sat heavily at the edge of her bed. They both knew Ava was right. Rowena did many rash things during her youth. And while Ava tied to protect her with lies, to spare her from her father’s wrath, her father always uncovered the truth and her nursemaid unfortunately ended up feeling the full brunt of his anger.

  Rowena stared at her lap. Her plan seemed so simple a moment ago. She smoothed the rough fabric over her legs as if she was trying to brush away the truth of what Ava said.

  She sensed her nursemaid watching her carefully, and when she heard Ava take a deep breath, she glanced up.

  “If you decide to leave the castle, take me with you,” Ava said, her tone full of resignation. “‘Tis best that we leave in the morning. Or better yet, we should leave during mid-day, when the sun is high.”

  Rowena raised an eyebrow at her, and watched as Ava flushed a deep crimson. She clasped her hands as if she was praying for God’s forgiveness and unsure she would get it after what she said next:

  “Tis May Day, as you know, and there will be many who will be going into town,” she said in a rush. “With so much activity during mid-day, with people coming and going about their business, we will have a much better chance of getting into town without being questioned.”

  Rowena stood up to her full height, and narrowed her eyes at Ava. “And so now you are helping me and you approve of me going into town without my father’s consent?”

  Ava shook her head vigorously. “Nay, you know better than I that I cannot force you to stay, nor do I approve of you going into town alone. All I am saying is that if you go now you will make your disappearance that much more obvious.” She unclasped her hands, and began twisting the folds of her apron again. “If your father realizes that you are gone, you will only invoke his ire, and I know how deeply his anger affects you.”

  Rowena turned her head away from Ava. She had no choice but to leave Ravenhearth. Her future and her happiness depended on it.

  “Father will discover that ‘tis a boon to be rid of me,” she said, her voice turning as cool as the evening air. “However you are right, ‘twould be best to leave at mid-day. I thank you for your words of advice.”

  Ava gave her a tight smile. “Sir Philip will not be thanking me. For that I am certain.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Sir Jonathan d’Abelard led his horse into the bailey, seven of his men following close behind. They had ridden for many hours, stopping only for food and rest.

  There was no talking among his men as they rode silently behind him, putting on the same cloak of watchfulness that their leader bore.

  The clatter of the horses’ hooves hitting the cobblestones in the inner courtyard drew the attention of dozens of curious servants who were going about their duties. He was used to people whispering his name after recognizing his standard, a fierce hawk with its beak wide open, its talons drawn and poised for attack.

  The reputation of the Iron Hawk preceded him wherever he went, invoking fear in the hearts of his enemies. But there was one enemy that didn’t fear him enough. And the fact that this enemy was out there, taunting him, made him grit his teeth in frustration. And after more than ten long years searching for the man, he had finally tracked him down to the one place that he swore that he would never go back to — the shire of his birth.

  His gaze swept past the uneasy faces as if he was searching for the unknown figure that haunted his dreams. They looked apprehensively at him and his men, a mixture of fear and awe on their upturned faces.

  “Cousin!” A woman’s voice cried out. As if a spell were broken, the eerie silence that followed the riders shattered and the servants scurried back to their work.

  Jonathan turned and the grave expression on his face disappeared as if it had never existed. He slid off his horse, and approached Lady Lorena du Veaux of Airndale. Before he could take two steps, the small woman ran and threw her arms around him in a warm embrace.

  “You have come,” she said, unable to hide the surprise and joy in her face. “I sent you the message but I was not sure if you received it, or if you would come.”

  Jonathan grinned, and returned the embrace. “Aye, I received it. And upon hearing about your upcoming nuptials, I rushed over here to visit you.”

  She swatted him on the arm. “You lie as badly as my minstrel,” she said, affectionately. “I recall you swearing that you would never return here.”

  Lorena signaled for the stable boy to take the horses. She then slipped one arm around his and led him through the courtyard.

  The stable boy glanced back at them before leading the horses away.

  “A white lie then,” Jonathan said in an indifferent tone. “I have business in this region, so it is fortuitous that I’m able to attend your wedding as well.”

  “What business do you have in these parts?” she asked, watching his face carefully as if she could discover a clue as to his real purpo
se.

  “‘Tis nothing that would interest a lady,” he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

  He sensed her studying him at length. “That is yet another lie,” she stated. “‘Tis the Grey Knight that brought you here, is it not? You would not be in this region if it were not for him. I cannot begin to flatter myself that my upcoming marriage would be a draw for you. I did not think you were joking when you swore to never set foot in this vicinity again. ‘Twould seem something serious must be afoot to bring you back here.”

  Jonathan laughed grimly. “I can never hide anything from you, cousin. You are too perceptive.”

  “I am rather observant,” she said, smiling pleasantly, although the light of determination reflected in her eyes. “However you have not answered my question — is it the Grey Knight that you are seeking?”

  Jonathan let out a weary sigh. She would keep asking questions until she was satisfied with an answer. “Aye, ‘tis he. It has been over ten years and the madman still eludes me. He’s like a phantom that appears, causes as much damage as he can, and then disappears back into the shadows. I’m growing tired of chasing him across the country, finding nothing. But when I have almost given up all hope, the madman resurfaces again and taunts me from another direction.” He took off his helm, and handed it to his squire. “The people who we’ve asked have been reluctant to speak, although his trail seems to end here.”

  Lorena arched her eyebrows in alarm. “At Airndale?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “Nay, at Blackburn.”

  She gave him a thoughtful look. “Perhaps he is dead,” she said, hopefully. “If there is no trace of him, then he may have perished, just as my last husband has perished. God can be kind at times.”

  “I would like to think he is dead, but he always comes back, sending me messages and leading me to the next place. Then he disappears as if the devil provides him refuge. Unless he provides clues, I am at a loss as to where to find him. I expect that he will send another message soon.” He let out a long breath. “I have only seen the helm of my enemy and have no idea what he looks like underneath, yet I can see him as clear as the day he killed Amelia. I promised her before she died that I would find her killer, and I cannot rest until I do so.”

  Lorena squeezed his arm, offering him small comfort. “It was a long time ago, Jonathan,” she said gently. She was one of the few people who knew how much Amelia’s death had affected him. “Amelia is no longer suffering now. Perhaps you should look to find a wife, and forget about the terrible past. You are not getting any younger, and you still need to fulfill your duty to sire an heir.”

  “Siring an heir is the least of my concerns. While the Grey Knight is still at large, ‘tis pure folly to marry.” He looked off in the distance as if he could see Amelia’s image. “Any wife I have will always be in danger, always vulnerable, and as hard as I try, I cannot be by her side, protecting her at all times. I am unwilling to put another woman’s life at risk just because she has an association to me.”

  Lorena let out a small sigh. “Come, let us not speak about the madman any further. Talk of him puts a foul stench in the air.”

  They walked in companionable silence through the stone archway, and entered the great hall. The servants took little notice of them as they scrambled to set up the trestle tables for the unexpected guests.

  “I will need to wash up,” she said, looking ruefully at the garden dirt at the hem of her gown. “I am afraid that I am not dressed for company. And you and your men would want to wash away the traveling grime as well. I shall have the cook make something to fill the hole in your bellies, for I know that knights are always hungry.”

  “I will not argue with that,” he said, smiling. “We have traveled long and would appreciate having our bellies filled. While I eat, I shall hear you speak of your upcoming nuptials.”

  She waved her hand impatiently. “Bathe first and we shall meet in the great hall. We have much to speak about, you and I.”

  ***

  Less than an hour later, Jonathan arrived at the hall, finding his men already seated at the lower tables.

  Lorena sat at the raised platform and when she saw him, her face lit up as if she had been waiting a long time for him to appear.

  At her beckoning, he made his way over to her and sat down. There were platters of cold meats, cheeses, fruit, and bread spread out on the trestle table. “I can always count on your hospitality, cousin,” he said, eyeing the delicious food set before him. “You outdo yourself each time I visit you.”

  “You sound as if you visit often,” Lorena said, laughing. She pushed the platter of cheese closer to him. “I had forgotten that the cook is away on an errand. At such short notice, this is all that we can offer. Dinner will be two hours hence and I did not think you and your men could wait. Perhaps this small repast will satisfy your hunger until then.”

  Jonathan noted his men already digging into the fresh food as if they hadn’t had anything decent to eat for weeks.

  Jonathan surveyed the platter, and selected a piece of cheese, placing it into his mouth and savoring its delicate taste. “I do not jest. This is fine fare. The cheese that you produce here is the best in the country.”

  “I must admit that we do produce fine cheese here at Airndale, thanks to the Cornish servants who agreed to work for me,” Lorena said, her face flushed with pride and pleasure. The reputation of Airndale went far beyond the gates of London, and King Edward was said to enjoy the savory cheeses.

  “Aye, and without any help from your late husband,” he said. “I fail to see why you need to marry again. ‘Tis obvious that you are doing well enough in managing your estate.”

  The smile on Lorena’s lips faded. “Really, Jonathan,” she said. “You should finish eating before we discuss my personal matters.”

  “Whether we discuss it now or later, what is the difference? You did ask me to come, did you not?” He paused. “Why are you marrying again? I thought you enjoyed widowhood.”

  She shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable under his gaze. “If you must know, both Sir Philip de Belleville, and Sir Roger de Clait approached me with offers of marriage. I would prefer to stay a widow but outside forces prevent me.” She clenched her fists as if she was trying to grasp for something that was within her control. “Airndale is a small yet profitable estate. It borders Cornish lands and is vulnerable for attack from across the border and from within. I appealed to King Edward for help. He has suggested I choose either Sir Philip or Sir Roger to wed.”

  “And so you have chosen Sir Philip,” he said.

  “Aye,” she said. “Both are the king’s vassals, although I believe Sir Philip is the better choice of the two.”

  “But you’re not certain,” he said in a flat tone, immediately understanding her unspoken concern.

  Lorena heaved a deep sigh that sounded as if it came from the depths of her being. “I did not want to burden you with my troubles.”

  Jonathan quirked his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

  She drew another breath. “I have an uneasy relationship with my Cornish neighbors. They would love to take control of Airndale, I am sure. Then I have two very powerful English lords who also want these lands. Of course ‘tis out of the question to allow the Cornish to have Airndale. Thus I have no choice but to choose one of my English neighbors. I have known both of these men for as long as I have been married to Sir Gordon. Sir Robert is ruthless and vile and I myself have witnessed his heartlessness.” She gave an involuntary shudder as if she was recalling his bloody vengeance upon Airndale. “Sir Philip, on the other hand, seems a decent and honorable man, however ‘twould ease my mind greatly if you would confirm this and curry out any dark secrets that he may hold. If there is evidence that Sir Philip is not suitable for me, then I can appeal to King Edward before ‘tis too late. He can then find me another knight to wed. However once my marriage to Sir Philip is finalized, and if there are ugly truths unearthed then, I am bonded to this ma
rriage until death.” Her gaze settled on her lap.

  He reached over, and lifted her chin. “Do not look so sad, cousin. You know I will help you,” he said.

  Lorena gazed at him through a veil of tears. “This I know, cousin,” she said, her voice unsteady, although there was hope there as well. “It may just be pre marital jitters that I am having,” she said. She gave a weak laugh. “I do believe that Sir Philip is the better choice for me and for my people, but I just want to be certain, very certain that I am not making a terrible mistake in marrying him.”

  “This is reasonable,” he said, nodding. “But what makes you think that Sir Robert will not attack Airndale even after your marriage? If he is as ruthless as you say, a marriage would not stop him from sacking your holdings or harming your people.”

  Lorena beckoned for a servant to refill Jonathan’s goblet. And when he moved away from the table, she continued. “I do fear that Sir Robert will move in to attack Airndale and gain it by force, whether I marry or not,” she said in a voice that was filled with fear and worry. “However if I am married to another powerful lord, I will at least gain protection for my people. So many lives have already been lost and I cannot afford to lose anymore.”

  Lorena grew silent.

  “‘Twas not you who lost those people, Lorena,” he reminded her. “Sir Gordon lost most of your men during that ill conceived siege. I don’t know why he set his sights on Sir Robert’s holdings.”

  A shadow fell across her face as if the mere mention of her late husband sucked the life force out from her. Her husband died four years into her marriage, falling off his destrier during a siege that went awry. Without direction, half of the garrison was wiped out that day. Robert then arrived, full of retribution, to attack Airndale and set siege to it. And Airndale, with provisions used up, almost starved during the long hard winter that followed.

  “The people belong to me as well, Jonathan. I cannot bear to witness more women made into widows and more children waiting in vain for fathers that shall never return.” Tears began to fall from her face, and she brought up a hand to wipe them away. “It was only through King Edward’s interference that Airndale was saved.”