One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy)

by D'Angelo, Dana

  Lorena was overcome with emotion, and Jonathan touched her arm to stop her from delving into the horrors of the past.

  “I will need a few days to see if there is any reason to stop your marriage from proceeding,” he said kindly. “I will go under disguise as a poor merchant. If I can find proof, I will declare it during the reading of the banns.”

  Lorena smiled at him through her tears. “I am in your debt,” she said in a husky voice.

  Jonathan softened his gaze. “As much as I am in yours,” he said. Lorena was the only person who helped him survive the hell of his fostering. There was much he owed to Lorena. His other plans had to wait for now.

  CHAPTER 3

  It was several hours before dawn when Rowena awoke. She pressed her hand to her chest, thinking the thudding of her heart seemed much too loud.

  Carefully, she drew the curtains aside, and peeked out to make sure that Ava was still snoring softly in her usual place beside the bed. Rowena raised her eyes heavenward, gave a quick thanks to God, and slipped out on the other side of the four poster bed.

  Despite Ava’s disapproval, she slept in the rough woolen gown that her nursemaid brought for her. Even though the wool was thick, Rowena could still feel a slight chill. Suppressing a shiver, she quickly put on the cloak that she tossed on the bed the night before. The extra layer of wool immediately enveloped her in a cocoon of warmth.

  She crept to the foot of the bed, and grabbed the small bundle that sat on top of the trunk and tied it to her belt. She smiled at the memory of talking circles around her nursemaid. Ava finally broke down and brought the cloth bag filled with bread and cheese from the kitchen.

  Ava, she knew, had her best interest at heart, but her nursemaid feared her father and so she couldn’t be trusted to keep Rowena’s plan a secret. And Rowena was determined to go through with her plan. She chewed on her bottom lip, feeling a bit guilty about lying to her nursemaid, although she never did specify when she planned to leave Ravenhearth. Ava assumed that she would be leaving at mid-day and it was easier to let her believe what she wanted.

  With one final glance at the pallet, she crept across the silent chamber, and slipped out of the door without incident. Once the chamber door closed, she quickly made her way down the spiral stairs.

  In order to gain her freedom, she had to pass through the great hall. And at this time, the hall was filled with sleeping bodies. Many of the servants lay on the straw covered floor, curled up next to the dead fire at the center of the room, while the men-at-arms slept on top of the trestle tables lined up along the walls. The rumbling pitches of their snores unified and rang throughout the hall as if a giant was pealing a hundred church bells at once.

  She weaved through the sleeping bodies, and stopped when a hound suddenly raised its head, recognizing her despite her disguise. It flipped its tail once but made no effort to move from its comfortable spot underneath the table, too tired from the previous night’s festivities.

  Rowena let out a breath of relief and dashed out the hall before it changed its mind and followed her. In short time, she was outside. It was done. She looked up at the sky and saw the faint blushes of morning beginning to show.

  She couldn’t take a horse with her, she decided. The stable master always took inventory of the horses each morning, and a missing horse would prematurely alert her father of her disappearance. She would have to find some other way to get to Whitshire. However that was something that she would figure out later.

  Rowena curved around to the castle gates, and couldn’t believe her luck when she found the gates already open and a small group of people filing out of the castle.

  Her father usually gave the servants the day off to celebrate the official welcoming of spring. The servants, she knew, would head out into the nearby woods to help gather flowers and greenery. They would then go back to the market cross in town and help decorate the large may pole there. Ava was right. Leaving the castle this day would not bring undue attention to herself.

  Rowena caught sight of a mother and her two children on a cart, waiting for their turn to exit the gates. She decided to stand close to the family to give the impression that she was a part of their troop. The small boy caught her eye, and smiled at her. She smiled back. The boy then turned to whisper something to his sister and she too glanced back at her. Rowena nodded to them. “Good morning,” she said quietly. But it was a mistake to speak.

  The mother whipped her head around at the sound of her giggling children and spotted her. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “Do I know you?” she asked. “Your voice sounds familiar.”

  Rowena pulled her hood closer to her head. “Nay,” she said, deepening her voice in hopes of disguising it. “I am the bailiff’s niece, returning home from a visit.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes further as if she didn’t believe her. “I wasn’t aware that the bailiff had nieces your age,” she said. She grabbed the squirming boy by the collar, and pulled him back into the cart. “I should know,” she added, thrusting out her chest with importance. “I’m the cook’s wife, and he knows everyone in the castle.”

  Before Rowena had a chance to answer, the porter hollered for the woman to move her horse and cart forward.

  The woman gave Rowena one last glance before urging the packhorse onward, and drove the cart through the opening. Rowena followed quickly behind.

  The bored porter looked past her shoulder as she passed him.

  ***

  With the town almost within sight, Rowena slowed her pace to take in the colorful rooftop houses, and watch as the smoke rose from the peaks, curling as if they were fingers beckoning her to visit.

  By the time she crossed into town the sun was overhead, and her senses became alive with the sights and sounds of buzzing activity. She smiled to herself, feeling the temptation to uncover her head and allow the morning sunshine to fall on her face. The town wasn’t large, although on a market day the number of merchants, freemen and villeins swelled by the hundreds. Today however the number of people would triple.

  The taverns and ale houses that lined the main street had their doors wide open, and Rowena caught a glimpse of the people inside, drinking ale as if there was no shortage. Children screamed and played tag in the busy streets, while the barking dogs and other animal noises added to the cacophony of sounds.

  Rowena approached a broken-down cart parked at the side of the dirt road, and she leaned on it to catch a breath. She had only meant to pass through the town, but the jubilation vibrating throughout the streets made her want to stay a little while longer.

  The people gathered at the market cross, watching the town women putting the finishing touches to the large may pole, which was already heavily adorned with colorful flowers, greenery and ribbons.

  A woman emerged from the crowd and began to sing. She raised her sweet voice so she would be heard over the good natured chatter. Soon the others joined in, clapping to the merry tune. Five little giggling girls came forward and grabbed a colorful ribbon each. And then with nimble feet, they gracefully twirled and skipped around the may pole, intertwining and plaiting their ribbons as they moved to the live music.

  Rowena brushed an errant strand of hair from her face when out of the out the corner of her eye she caught a flash of the silver and black livery colors of Ravenhearth. Were they searching for her already? She turned her head, and squinted to make out the coat of arms on their tunics. With a sinking heart she confirmed that it was indeed the familiar black raven imprinted on the fabric. Jared and his nephew Derrik stood side-by-side, grimly scanning the crowd, looking for her.

  Before they saw her, she ducked behind the cart.

  She drew the cowl further down her head as if the shadow underneath the hood could somehow hide her better.

  After what felt like ages, she peeked over the side of the cart and saw the two guards with their backs toward her, questioning a man two feet away from where she hid.

  Saying a quick prayer, she hauled
herself up from her crouched position, and bolted to the opposite direction of the guards. Then seeing an opening between two thatched roof houses, she ran straight toward the gap.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jonathan urged his horse forward, traveling as swift as possible on the king’s highway. He left Airndale several hours before the break of dawn, hoping to get to the town of Ravenhearth by noon. He still had a small distance to cover, although he sensed the hackney that Lorena lent him starting to tire. Traveling on the highway was a dangerous affair. Unarmed travelers became easy prey to robbers, especially the Folmort gang, who were said to patrol the roads and nearby woods, looking for easy pickings. No doubt, they would be manning the roads today.

  He shifted uncomfortably on the hackney, wishing that he rode one of his other horses instead. At least Lorena didn’t offer him a donkey, he thought with derision.

  The jerkins and leggings he wore felt hot and itchy, and he lifted a hand to scratch at his chest. How a man traveled for so long and in uncomfortable, scratchy attire was hard to fathom. But it did serve its purpose, he had to admit. With a great deal of debate, he chose to leave his sword behind and just carry a dagger in his boot. Even though he felt naked without his sword, the clothes he wore, and the travel dust that clung to his body, made his disguise all the more convincing. He could easily be mistaken for the many peasants who were making their way to town to celebrate the spring holiday.

  The hackney’s ears twitched as if it picked out some distant sound.

  Jonathan slouched on the horse, his cowl pulled low over his head so that his face was hidden. Born from the years of training and warfare, he trusted the instincts of animals. He scanned the horizon, as if his sharp eyes could see through the shadowy trees that lined the highway.

  But it wasn’t that he feared for his safety. It was an obsession he had. Wherever he went, he was on the look out for his enemy. He knew the Grey Knight was out there, and it was only a matter of time before he was caught.

  Jonathan clenched his jaw. Somehow the coward knew his every move, and although Jonathan pursued him for so many years, he didn’t know anything else about him other than the fact that he was a malicious killer, and that he carried no identifying mark on him.

  And even though his enemy was faceless, he was still haunted by what he had done. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Amelia, the blood stains on her bed, her hand reaching out for him, and then her beautiful face turning pale as the life force seeped out of her. And it was all because of him. Of that he had no illusions, and his enemy made sure to remind him of it lest he forgot.

  He could now hear the sound of distant hoof beats. “Easy, boy,” he said in a low voice. “I hear it too.”

  As the sounds got louder, Jonathan turned his face and caught the sight of three knights in formation, moving rapidly toward him. He froze when he saw that all the men were clad in grey, with no identifying standard on their person. Was it possible? Had God finally answer his prayers and brought the Grey Knight to him? His heart beat faster as if it was keeping pace with the pounding hooves.

  They were almost upon him. Jonathan reached for his sword, and cursed under his breath when he found it missing.

  Quickly, he maneuvered his horse to the side of the road, making a show of getting out of the way, and positioned himself in such a way that he could get a closer look at them. When the trio was a hair breadth away, he hissed in disbelief. Raulf. Although Jonathan hadn’t seen him in years, the man had changed little. There was no mistaking the flaxen hair and fleshy body of his father’s armsman. But what was he doing here, miles away from Blackburn castle? Jonathan’s eyes narrowed at the nondescript tunic that Raulf wore over his armor. And why was he not wearing the Blackburn colors?

  Without a look at his direction, they thundered passed him, leaving a cloud of dust swirling in the air.

  Jonathan watched them until they disappeared from sight, and then, as if in a trance, he nudged his horse forward. Seeing Raulf here brought forth more questions than answers. Some part of him wanted to follow the knights and find out what they were up to, but another part of him refused to get off track. He made a promise to Lorena, and he meant to keep it.

  All too soon the town of Ravenhearth came into view. And as he got closer, the din of animal and human voices became louder. The streets were overflowing with people, their shouts and laughter joyous and light — a world away from his dark thoughts.

  Forcing those thoughts away, he led the packhorse through the rutted, uneven streets, heading toward the market cross, where all the people gathered and where he would most likely find the information that he needed.

  From where he sat, he could see the parish church and the many houses that surrounded the market cross. His stomach began to rumble as he breathed in the smell of sweet and savory foods that the various stalls were showcasing. There was time to get food later. First he needed to decide where to start his investigation.

  He passed by an alehouse, and caught a whiff of ale coming out of the establishment. The door opened, and he could see the place humming with activity. This was a good place as any to start his investigation.

  A young boy came forward and after taking a coin from him, led his horse to the stable near the back.

  As Jonathan walked through the door, he paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

  The establishment was like the hundreds of alehouses he’d been to in different towns and villages. This one was particularly shabby, its owners too busy with its patrons to worry about the appearance of the worn tables and benches. No one seemed to mind the dirty straw covering the floor boards, or the strong smell of stale ale that permeated the entire building.

  A nervous looking old man sat at the counter overlooking the patrons, while a young wench, who shared the same narrow features as the man, rushed around the room serving ale to roughly forty customers.

  A couple of faces looked up when he walked in. but the majority took little notice of him. They were too busy talking and drinking, and one extra man in the room mattered little to them.

  The serving woman saw Jonathan and pushed at a large man sitting at a stool with an empty tankard in front of him, forcing him to vacate his seat. She then beckoned for him to take the empty stool.

  Jonathan sat down, and pushed a coin toward her. “A tankard of your finest ale,” he said.

  The woman gave him an assessing look, taking in the dust covering his worn clothing. She was far from beautiful, with two front teeth missing, but her full figure made up for the loss.

  Before slipping the coin in her apron, she gave him a toothless grin. “We only serve the finest ale here,” she said and then moved off to fetch his order.

  He surreptitiously took notice of the type of people that surrounded him in the room — peasants, tradesmen, physicians, performers…the holiday brought everyone to the alehouse it seemed. All he needed was to find a well connected man to feed him information about Philip.

  The sound of slamming fists made Jonathan turn his head. It was the man who was forced from his stool earlier. The serving woman and the old man behind the counter got up and rushed over to the giant.

  Ignoring the old man, who was pleading with him, the giant glowered at the serving wench. She went to brush past him, but he caught her hand and said something to her. They were too far away for Jonathan to hear. She shook her head, and pulled her hand away as if repulsed by his touch. She turned her head, and caught sight of Jonathan. As if she wanted to incite the giant’s anger, she winked at Jonathan, and gave him a broad smile before sauntering off to the other side of the room to serve another customer.

  The giant’s face went scarlet with fury and jealousy.

  Lumbering over to him, with the old man following him like a lost hound, the man stood in front of Jonathan. He folded his large arms over his chest. “I don’t like you,” he growled.

  The sound of his booming voice caused several patrons looked up from their tankards; their e
yes suddenly lighting up at the prospect of free entertainment.

  “Now see here, Georgie!” the owner exclaimed. “We don’t want trouble!”

  Again ignoring the old man, Georgie gave Jonathan a sweeping gaze, taking in his grubby face and worn boots. He narrowed his eyes, and bared his yellow teeth. “The wench is taken. You should leave.”

  “You don’t have the right to tell my customers to leave!” the old man sputtered. “I should tell you to leave!”

  Jonathan’s hand casually dropped to his boots where his dagger was hidden. He didn’t have his sword but that didn’t mean he was defenseless. “I’m only here for a drink, friend,” he said, giving off what he hoped was a pleasant smile. “I came for the celebrations and find that I like this town. I was hoping to find out if ‘tis worth my time to settle my roots here.”

  The giant stared down at him, standing as solid as a tree. “I don’t believe you. I saw you looking at Abigail,” he said finally.

  Upon seeing the giant speaking with Jonathan, the serving woman finished serving her customer and rushed over to them, alarm and annoyance etched on her face. “Leave off, Georgie,” she said, glaring at the man. “Why are you accosting my customer?” she demanded.

  The old man looked visibly relieved when his daughter appeared. He pushed past the growing crowd that had gathered around Jonathan’s table, and went back to his place behind the counter.

  “I’m only protecting you from the likes of him,” he said, nodding toward Jonathan. “I don’t like him looking at you, Abigail.”

  “I need no man’s protection.” The wench slammed an empty tankard on the table, and placed her hands on her full hips. “We’re no longer together, Georgie. I told you that many times. Get that through your thick head, will you? I’ve a business to run. If you need to settle your differences, you best do it outside.”