Avalyn smiled broadly at the woman. “He is very chivalrous.”
Thel nodded, her dark eyes intense on the lady. “Most people would not call him kind. He is very frightening. But I believe he has a good heart and he deserves to be happy. And you, my lady; you were kind to me even when you knew what I was. That is rare. You deserve to be happy, too.”
A grateful expression passed from Avalyn to Thel. There was warmth and genuine thanks in the gentle look. Thel turned back to the capcase and put it on the bed with a couple of others. Soon the soldiers would be coming and they had to be ready.
When Charles finally came for his intended, he was surprised to find three small women in her company. But it took very little convincing to allow the ladies to accompany Avalyn to Guerdley Cross. Dazzled by her beauty as he was that morning, and thinking himself a very fortunate man indeed, he would have agreed to let the Devil himself attend her.
The Sirens went north.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It had been two weeks since Brogan had left Avalyn, two weeks since they had traveled north and found haven at the small village of Rugeley. It wasn’t far from Guerdley Cross; perhaps a day’s ride. St. Alban remembered a friend who owned fortified manor house called Slitting Mill that was situated near the town, but when they finally came upon it, the friend was long dead and the structure was abandoned. It had been enough for St. Alban to set up house. Brogan had little time in order to learn to become a proper knight and St. Alban was determined to teach him.
They were in the small ward of Slitting Mill on a cool, blustery day. Brogan had spent the morning learning to don St. Alban’s old armor, heavy pieces that were outdated yet functional. For a man who had spent his life in mail and leather protection, the introduction of the armor was something alien. St. Alban made him put the armor on over and over, repetitively, until he could put it on swiftly and competently as if he had been doing it all of his life. More than once, Brogan grew frustrated when the armor refused to cooperate but he persevered. Eventually, he was able to put it on like any other knight.
The second lesson was the art of combat from the back of a horse, which was a bit trickier considering Brogan was infantry and was used to fighting on his feet. St. Alban had the man practice on the back of the old charger, teaching him how to gain reach with his broadsword without losing his balance, or how to guide the animal with pressure from his knees rather than the reins. In battle, that was imperative. As Mama Starke and little Lake watched from the sidelines, Brogan struggled with the concept of battle on the back of the horse but kept his temper because Lake was watching him.
He found distraction with the blond little angel, who seemed to constantly have food in her mouth. Mama Starke saw to that, and within those two weeks, Lake had filled out and was starting to look like a little cherub. She was a truly adorable child, waving happily at Brogan from the sidelines as she stuffed her face with bread. He couldn’t help but grin at her, thinking of her as his daughter as if she had always been. He was attached to her. When he saw her, he saw Avalyn and everything he was preparing to fight for. He saw his life.
Now, at the end of the second week of training, Brogan was growing impatient. As the cool wind blew and he climbed off the charger after having practiced jousting all morning with the trunk of a sapling, he approached St. Alban as the man stood vigilant next to Lake and Mama Starke. The ready-made audience was Brogan’s constant companion, but today, he didn’t feel much like performing anymore. He wanted to go north, to Avalyn. His patience with everything was at an end.
“I am finished with this,” he announced to St. Alban as he adjusted one of his gauntlets. “I have learned what I need to know. Now it is time to move forward.”
St. Alban lifted an eyebrow. “There is more to learn, Brogan.”
“What more can there be?” Brogan asked, impatient. “You have taught me how to dress like a knight and ride like a knight. I can already fight better than they can. Now I know what it is to be a knight with all of these fancy trappings. What more is there?”
“More indeed,” St. Alban crossed his arms. “I suppose there is nothing I can teach you about combat; you have learned your lessons well. But the essence of a true knight isn’t fighting; it is chivalry. Listen to me, Brogan. You cannot be a convincing knight based upon brute strength.”
Brogan didn’t look convinced. “What else is there?”
St. Alban held up a finger. “Much more,” he said firmly. “To be chivalrous is to defend the weak and enforce the laws of the church. It is not settling a dispute with a blade; it is using your reasoning and your mind. It is handling each situation with wisdom and calm and, if need be, with your sword. Do you understand what I am saying so far?”
Brogan continued to fuss with the old gauntlet that was chaffing his wrist; he looked down at the glove as he loosened the strap. “I understand that you are asking me to show weakness. I will not do that.”
St. Alban shook his head. “Nay, lad, that is not what I am asking at all,” he said. “I am asking you to grow up, to learn something beyond mere killing. Do you not think that would please Avalyn? Does she not deserve a man who is wise and compassionate, not merely a killing machine?”
Brogan looked up from the glove and stopped fussing. “I am doing all of this for Avalyn. She deserves a strong man who can protect her.”
St. Alban knew that he wasn’t going to get far in trying to explain chivalry, but he knew he had to try. The concept was extremely foreign to Brogan. After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“You are a strong man and an excellent fighter,” he said, sounding rather defeated. “But if you are to be convincing as a knight, you must show something more, something I cannot teach you. You must show calm and wisdom in every situation. If you do not agree with me, then at least understand my words, because if you do not, you will give yourself away. True knights do not act rashly and are not mindless killers. All I ask is that you think before you react, Brogan, especially when we go to Guerdley Cross. If we are to pull off this charade, then you must not think like Brogan d’Aurilliac. You must think like a knight.”
Brogan sighed heavily, struggling with the concept of something beyond fighting and killing. He glanced at his mother, who was holding Lake on her knee, and then fixed on the baby as she licked her fingers of a sticky bun. When Lake saw that Brogan was looking at her, she grinned and slithered off Mama Starke’s knee. Running to Brogan, he picked her up and tried to avoid the sticky fingers that were coming at him. But he couldn’t dodge them completely and they ended up on his face as she gave him a messy kiss. It was sweet, warm and wonderful, enough to melt his heart.
St. Alban watched he interaction, astonished that his serious young friend had the capacity to show such compassion. Over the past few weeks, the man had show complete and utter joy and gentleness with the little girl. St. Alban knew that in spite of Brogan’s resistance to the concept of chivalry that the man indeed had the capacity to not only learn the qualities but display them. Little Lake had proven that. There was hope.
“Just a few more lessons today, Brogan,” St. Alban said. “That is, providing you can separate yourself from your daughter and pay attention.”
Brogan lifted a reproving eyebrow at St. Alban for the comment but dutifully put Lake on her feet. As Lake began to run around and play, with Mama Starke in very close attendance, Brogan tried to follow more instructions on chivalry and knightly honor. More than once, he grew frustrated, but more than once, St. Alban was able to help him understand. Things that didn’t come naturally to him were going to have to become second nature if he wanted to make a convincing knight.
As the day passed in to night, Brogan drew closer to the man who would slip Avalyn away from Aubrey.
*
Guerdley Cross
May, 1469
Merseyside was a lush land with rolling hills and herds of livestock dotting the landscape. May was a particularly lovely month, as the spring chill was just sta
rting to wear off and the temperatures were becoming more moderate. Green lands stretched to the horizon and the brisk sea breeze blew in every evening, filling the air with the scent of salt. It was a beautiful place if one was inclined to that sort of pleasure, a land of peace and tranquility in a country that had known little of both.
The castle of Guerdley Cross was an exceptionally wealthy establishment in a populated fiefdom that stretched to the sea. The castle was a massive structure with twenty-foot thick walls, four squatty towers, and a three-storied keep that sat atop a forty-foot tall motte. Several outbuildings sat in the enormous bailey, including stables, barracks, and a variety of other trades. Built by John Stone Aubrey more than one hundred years before, it was a busy, functional castle that protected a heavy population of peasants.
With the beauty and wealth of it, Avalyn should have been at least moderately content. There was nothing she wanted for. Charles, having demonstrated himself a true gentleman during the weeks of their association, had been inordinately kind and patient with her since their arrival. Aside from asking when she wished to set a wedding date, he never asserted himself and was always quick to obey her wishes. It had been clear from the onset which one of them was in control of their relationship, and it wasn’t Charles. All Avalyn had to do was say a word and he would move heaven and earth to do her bidding.
Since arriving at Guerdley Cross a little over three weeks ago, Avalyn’s routine had not varied much; she would rise in the morning, eat alone, then spend most of the day either sewing in Charles’ solar or walking with Inglesbatch. Charles had developed a strong dislike for the de Neville knight simply because the man was never far from Avalyn and she seemed to like it that way. Charles could order him away, which he had done many a time, but Avalyn would wonder on his whereabouts and eventually Inglesbatch would return. It was a very odd situation, one that Charles had been meaning to broach with the lady, but he had yet to summon the courage. She was standoffish enough as it was, and he did not want to further distance her.
On this particular day, Avalyn was in Charles’ solar, which was now more her solar, working a piece of needlepoint on a large wooden frame. It was a hunting scene, something she wasn’t particularly fond of, but she was attempting to do it for Charles. She knew she had been distant and furthermore, she knew that he was becoming discouraged with her lack of interest in him. Though she had no intention of letting the man any closer to her than he already was, it did not mean that she wasn’t beyond some measure of pity for him. And she felt guilty. He was trying very hard to be pleasant to her, but she made it clear that she had no use for him.
Moreover, her mood was dark these days. It had been a little over three weeks since she had arrived in Merseyside and, still, Brogan had not made an appearance. She was beginning to wonder if he had indeed forgotten about her, or worse, something had happened to him. The days grew darker and her mood grew sullen, though she tried not to let her turmoil show. Only Inglesbatch had an idea of what was happening within her, but William had his own duties and worries at the moment, his primary concern being to stay in Aubrey’s good graces. Aubrey was showing strong signs of jealousy and William continued to walk a very fine line with the man. Each day was becoming more of a challenge.
Thel and Aggie sat with Avalyn in the solar on this bright morning, combing through clusters of dyed wool in preparation for placing in upon the loom. Aggie had demonstrated quite a talent on the loom, as her own mother had been a seamstress, so Avalyn had put her on the spindle. Thel wasn’t much talented at anything, and Avalyn had tried to teach her the finer points of embroidery, but she had poked her fingers more than the material. Now, she simply combed wool.
Inglesbatch found the ladies in the solar some time before noon. Avalyn caught sight of him first, followed by Thel. Thel’s face lit up when she saw him, though she tried to hide it. She’d harbored a growing interest in William since meeting him, something he hadn’t paid much attention to. So she put her head back down the moment he entered the room, not wanting him to see the attraction and disappointment in her eyes.
“My lady,” William greeted Avalyn pleasantly. “How does this day find you?”
Avalyn speared the fabric with a needle, working it through. “Well enough,” she said, concentrating on not stabbing herself. “Where have you been all morning?”
William didn’t reply right away. When Avalyn looked up at him, he beckoned to her with a crooked finger and began moving to the window. Curious, she secured the needle and rose from her loom. She followed William all the way to the window. He pointed from the lancet opening, in the direction of the stables.
“I’ve been observing St. John in his dealings with a bachelor knight,” he said quietly.
At first, neither his words nor his tone registered. Avalyn peered from the window, seeing the arse of a fat dappled charger in the distance. She could see some activity around the animal, soldiers and grooms moving about, but nothing out of the ordinary until a massive body moved into her line of sight. And then, it hit her. She knew that form.
In a heartbeat, her anxiety and excitement soared and she emitted a small cry. Her golden eyes were wide with astonishment.
“He’s here,” she hissed, turning to William when the figure once again moved out of her line of sight. “Is it really him?”
William nodded, shushing her. Walls had ears around this place, as he had seen in his short time here. “You must be very careful, Avalyn,” he whispered. “He has come as Sir Tygor. That is all you will know him by when you are introduced. Never mention anything else, ever. Is that clear?”
She nodded emphatically, tears springing to her eyes. Her heart was thumping loudly against her ribs, her hands shaking with anticipation. For twenty-two days she had progressively slipped into the world of despair, all to have it lifted in one swift moment. It was almost more than she could bear, and she quickly blinked away the moisture filling her eyes. She could hardly believe it.
“Have you spoken to him?” she grasped William’s hand eagerly. “Is he well?”
“I was introduced to him,” William said quietly. His round blue eyes moved to the scene beyond the window. “He came last night to beg audience from Aubrey.”
“Last night? I heard nothing of this. When did he come?”
“It was late,” he replied. “You had already retired. As we know, you do not spend an over amount of time with Aubrey if you can help it, so the baron was in the great hall with St. John and a few other men when he arrived.”
Her eyes widened. “So Barton has seen him, has he? I was not sure if he knew him on sight. Did he…?”
William shook his head, cutting her off. “St. John did not know him. All is well on that account.”
By this time, Thel and Aggie had joined them at the window. When William saw the overt attention, he quietly shooed the women back to what they were doing. Avalyn was still staring out of the window, trying to catch another glimpse of Brogan. William could see the emotion on her face, realizing he was not over his jealousy as he had once thought. He’d spent three weeks with Avalyn, sometimes spending up to twelve solid hours a day with her, and he realized that he had been very greedy. He did not want to give that up. Now he was going to have to come to grips with Brogan’s reappearance and, already, it was a struggle.
“William,” Avalyn put her hand on his arm again; he looked at the hand, fighting off the feelings it provoked. “Do…do you think it would be strange if we were to take a walk to the stables right now? Would that be out of the ordinary? We can say that I simply want to check on my colt. He’s not been happy since we arrived.”
“It would not be strange for you to check on your colt,” he said. “But you must not react to Tygor. You have never met the man. Remember?”
“I know.” She suddenly smoothed at her luscious hair, in yet another elaborate arrangement thanks to Aggie’s skill. “How do I look?”
William gazed at her; the woman had only grown more beautiful in the
past three weeks. In a pale green silk surcoat that clung almost indecently to her slender waist and round breasts, she was a sight to behold.
“You look lovely,” he told her, a hint of wistfulness in his tone. He held up his arm. “Shall we go?”
With a tremulous smile, eyes alight with anticipation, she put her hand on his elbow and followed him from the solar.
The entry to the keep was a big, round room with a small alcove just next to the entry door. Dogs milled about, scattering out of the way when Avalyn and William passed through. The early spring day outside was bright and sunny, cool and smelling of the distant sea. When they descended the retractable wooden steps and reached the dark earth of the bailey, Avalyn spoke.
“Tell me what Charles knows of him.”
William set a casual pace; left up to Avalyn, she probably would have run the entire way. “He came last night and told the baron that he was a bachelor knight in search of a House. He presented Aubrey with an impressive letters patent, though I have no idea where he got such a thing. It says that he is a Germanic knight having served in the House of Hesse, Earl of Saxony. He told the baron that he is seeking his fortune in England.”
Avalyn shook her head. “Does he look suspicious? Knights do not normally appear uninvited and ask to swear fealty to a liege they do not know. They are referred, or gifted, or part of a legacy. How could he just show up and ask to serve Charles?”
William looked at her. “That is not entirely true. Bachelor knights do, at times, seek lieges to serve, but there is usually some condition associated with it. For instance, the man has to prove himself or come with some reference. It’s not completely unheard of.”
“So Charles believed him?”
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