A Winter's Knight

by Fiona Neal

  “I saw a man faint. I don’t know why that happened, but his nose bled. I believe he is dead, Grandfather,” she related, and she could not stop shaking. The stranger had accosted her and would have had his way with her if he hadn’t died.

  “Have no fear, Alice. We shall see to him,” her grandfather said kindly. “Go to your chambers, my child. You are trembling with fear and cold.”

  “Yes, Grandfather. Alice nodded and ran up the tower steps to her room.

  She quickly started the fire, which they servants had laid. She could call a servant, but she didn’t want to wait. When the kindling spread the flames to the other logs, she put a few more pieces of wood on the fire.

  Alice then stripped off all her clothes and wrapped in a robe. She burned all the garments she had worn when that man attacked her—including her shoes. She wanted no memory of the assault and battery.

  After she destroyed all the clothes she had worn, she called for hot water, which was always available in the kitchen. When the bath water arrived, Alice scrubbed her body and hair by the warmth of the fire. She then dressed in a fresh shift and robe.

  Alice then called for a servant and asked that her evening meal of broth, venison, carrots, and bread be served in her room. She had no wish to see anyone. She had never been so crudely treated, and the vulgar experience with the man shook her most terribly.

  She knelt and gave thanks to God for sparing her life and her honor. She consumed the food when it arrived, for she was hungry from her long fast. She then went to bed.

  Exhausted, she fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

  The next day, Alice found out that the knight who had tried to rape her was a married man, but the physician felt that he had some kind of brain hemorrhage. Furthermore, when her assailant fell, he smashed head.

  Alice offered prayers for the repose of his soul. She also prayed for his family. But somehow, she felt she would never forget that vile assault.

  But men had a way of showing Alice that she was an inferior being—all except her grandfather.

  Alice’s father had also been cold to her, disappointed she was a girl—and letting her know it, even though she could inherit this whole estate. After her mother died, her father married again, taking joy in his young wife and the sons she gave him.

  Frightened and disappointed in men, Alice decided to take vows and devote her life to God. She had always loved the Benedictine abbey. She found comfort and solace there. She also loved the abbess.

  Now, Alice banished those terrifying memories of the assault and battery from her mind and entered the abbess’s quarters.

  A nun in an anteroom announced her presence, and then she escorted Alice into the Abbess Enid’s luxurious chambers, warmed by the braziers and a large fireplace.

  Although Alice was the granddaughter of the earl, and the daughter of the heir of De Winter Manor, she curtsied, giving the older woman the sign of respect. Furthermore, the abbess was also her great aunt—her grandfather’s sister.

  Alice also could not fail to notice a blonde knight standing to the left of the abbess and holding his helm in the crook of his arm. Long of limb and wide of shoulders, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, for his bone structure was finely chiseled. She could not miss the intense, sparkling blue of the man’s eyes. Nor could she dismiss the way the fire caused his fair thatch of hair to gleam like shimmering gold.

  Still, Alice quickly averted her gaze, for it was unseemly to be considering a man’s looks. Soon, she would renounce all worldly things when she entered the Benedictine order as a postulant. That meant renouncing marriage to a man to become a bride of Christ. Besides, men seemed like predators to her. They wanted women to comfort themselves and to have children—except for her dear grandfather.

  “You sent for me, Reverend Mother.” Alice spoke quietly and reverently.

  Her long, pale fingers touching the cross suspended from her neck, the abbess rose from the finely carved chair by the fire and said, “Yes, I have some urgent news for you, Lady Alice.” The abbess paused and bit her lower lips. “Your grandfather wishes you to return to De Winter Manor immediately. This knight, Sir Edmund Moreton,” the abbess turned to the extremely handsome man, “and two of his companions, will escort you there immediately.”

  “But it is still so dark, Reverend Mother. How will we see to travel?”

  “The knights have lanterns. Furthermore, we must obey your grandfather’s command.” The abbess appeared as if she was trying to control her emotions.

  Why did her grandfather wish her to return to De Winter Manor—and at this hour?

  “Shall I be back in time to become a member of the order next month?” Alice inquired.

  “You will never become a member of this order, my lady,” the abbess informed her.

  Stunned, Alice gasped. “But why shall I not, Reverend Mother? This has been our plan for some years.”

  “There is no easy way to say this, Lady Alice.” The woman frowned and closed her gray eyes. When she opened them again, a few moments later, she said. “Still, I must tell you.” She took a deep breath. “Your father, stepmother, and siblings are all dead. They expired from an illness. Your grandfather is the only survivor and he needs you home immediately.”

  “My family is dead?” Alice asked, feeling shaken and in disbelief. How could this be?

  The reverend mother nodded. “They are gone, my child.”

  Alice put one hand over her heart and the other over her mouth. She suddenly felt quite lightheaded, and then everything went as black as a midnight in winter.

  Chapter Two

  Sir Edmund had seen the stunningly beautiful young woman’s complexion suddenly go from fair and rosy to deathly pale, and she began to swoon. Dropping his helm with a clang as it fell against the flagstones, in one large stride, he leapt to her side and caught her, sparing her from the punishing fall to the stone-hard floor.

  The lady felt light and fragile in his arms, almost like a bird. He couldn’t help thinking that she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She had wide emerald-colored eyes, a straight, delicately sculpted nose, and lovely lush lips, which resembled a cupid's bow. What a pity it would be to hide all that feminine loveliness behind the veil and plain habit of a nun. It would be a special waste to cover that glorious fall of fiery-red hair—the De Winter red hair, as it was called, for many of the De Winters were famous for their flame-colored hair.

  Lady Alice was the most desirable woman he had ever seen, but she was too far above him socially ever to dream of a relationship with the young lady. Besides, it was wrong to think in those terms when the lady was so vulnerable. She’d just learned she had lost most of her family.

  Edmund felt guilty about entertaining such carnal thoughts at a time like this.

  Besides, I must kill this lovely woman, so I can save my dear young sister.

  The thought of murder sickened him. He had taken a vow to protect women. He did not want to hurt anyone, even though he was a knight and trained warrior. He always prayed for the souls of those he had killed in battle.

  “Quick, Sir Edmund, place her here,” Abbess Enid directed.

  He hurried Lady Alice into an adjacent room, the abbess’s opulent bedchamber, and placed the unconscious woman on the large bed, its tester hangings of dark green draping it.

  As Edmund placed another log on the fire, he wondered if the young woman would die of shock. He then would not have to murder her. Still, he did not want her to die. He had seen too much of death and battle in the days when Empress Maud and King Stephen had fought for the crown of England—a civil war that had lasted about twenty years.

  Edmund, though, had just fought in the war for the last year, when he earned his spurs. Now, thank God, those days were over. King Stephen had named Maude’s son his heir, for Stephen’s own son had died.

  Still, so much devastation had occurred that learned men decried that great damaged that had occurred in that horrible, destructive war.

>   “So cold,” Lady Alice whispered, but she was still unconscious.

  Edmund removed his heavy red woolen cloak and placed it over Lady Alice. He hoped the garment would retain the heat of his body and transfer it to her. He would have rubbed some warmth into her hands, but he believed the abbess would find the gesture too intimate, so he wisely refrained

  “Ask Sister Eleanor to bring some mulled wine,” Abbess Enid ordered. “The girl needs something to warm her on the inside.”

  Edmund hurried to the antechamber and delivered the message, and then he quickly returned. He did not want the lady to die of shock—although her demise would save him the trouble of killing her.

  Lady Alice’s face seemed paler than the first snow that covered De Winter Manor each year he had lived there. His quarters in the barracks, Edmund had not seen the young woman up close, but only from a distance and just once. He had learned she was devout and often visited this convent. He then learned she wished to become a nun.

  Abbess Enid felt Alice’s pulse. “Have no fear, Sir Edmund, she will be all right. She has just had a frightful shock.”

  “Yes, frightful,” he agreed.

  But would she remain so? Edmund had seen men die when they had lost a great deal. This young noblewoman had lost her whole family—with the exception of her grandfather. What she didn’t know was that Lord De Winter, too, had almost died. She appeared so gentle and kind. He hoped the burden of her loss would not break her spirit.

  Perhaps it would be better for all if death did take the woman now. It would certainly make things easier for him.

  I shall not have to commit premeditated murder. Yet, I do not want this woman to die.

  Guilt swamped him again, making his heart heavy.

  Sister Eleanor arrived with the mulled wine, and she set the goblet on a small table. “As you asked, Reverend Mother,” the nun said.

  “Thank you, Sister Eleanor,” the abbess replied.

  “You are welcome, Reverend Mother,” Sister Eleanor replied and quickly took her leave.

  Alice stirred, and she opened her large, luminous green eyes. But those lovely orbs suddenly glistened with tears, and she then began to cry bitterly.

  Edmund’s heart went out to her. He knew what it was like to lose family members. He had lost his mother and father. Both blows had knocked him low for a good while.

  But he must not allow himself to feel anything for her. He must murder her quickly, swiftly, and hide the foul deed. He must break his vows and condemn his soul to eternal damnation. A shiver skidded down his spine—no fort the first time—since he had this thought too often these days.

  But I must save my sister.

  Surely God will take that into consideration. And he would confess his sin to his confessor. God would forgive him, but would he forgive himself? And likely the priest you assign a difficult and lengthy penance.

  But will I ever forgive myself?

  “You must have faith, Lady Alice,” the abbess said, trying to reassure the young woman.

  “But my father, stepmother, and young brothers and little sister are all dead. I love them still, Reverend Mother. You know my father had married again after a long period, and Lady Marjorie gave him two sons and a little daughter, Rosamund. But now they are all gone.” Alice cried harder.

  “I know, dear child,” the abbess said. “You will always love them, but they are with God. When I lost my father, I consoled myself by thinking that I now had two fathers in heaven: God and my dear earthly parent.”

  “Yes, I think that is a comforting way to view death. I love this abbey, too,” Lady Alice revealed. “I wish to stay here.”

  “But you cannot, dear lady,” the reverend mother replied. “Your manor is an ancient one, not subject to the customs and laws of the primogeniture. Therefore, you, as a woman, can inherit. When your siblings and parents died, you became your grandfather’s heir. That means when he makes his demise, which we hope will be an event in the very distant future, all his lands and titles will go to you. You will become the Countess of De Winter Manor. You must marry and give your people an heir.”

  Edmund knew those facts, as likely did the Lady Alice, but it was clear that she wanted to become a nun. She had given up the chance to marry and have children, for she was of age to do so.

  Furthermore, he had the job of doing something so heinous—something he strenuously hated to perpetrate. Still, if he didn’t do it, he would never see Edith, his young sister again, for she would be brutally murdered. Edmund had no doubt of that. Lord Camden, the villain, had no reason to keep Edith alive.

  “I suppose that is my duty, Reverend Mother, but I do not wish that.” Alice struggled to sit up.

  The abbess helped her and plumped the pillows behind the younger woman.

  “I wish to stay here,” Lady Alice stated emphatically. “I feel safe and useful here.”

  “Yes, my dear, but there is our will, and there is God’s will,” the abbess reminded her. “We must obey Him in all things.” The reverend mother took the mulled wine and held it to Alice’s lips.

  Alice slowly drank the wine.

  Edmund’s heart went out to the young woman. It was so hard when God directed us away from the path we wanted. He understood all too well. He was treading a path not of his own choosing—a direction that may lead to the destruction of his body and soul—if he did not have the opportunity to confess and atone the grave sin of murder. But life often set poor souls on roads not of their choosing.

  This one I must tread is definitely not of my opting.

  Edmund had wanted to become a scholar, but his father had sent him to be fostered as a knight. He had little choice, but to obey his parent, Lord Moreton.

  Furthermore, Edmund would never inherit the family’s lands and castle because he was a third son. He must earn his bread by wielding his sword and lance—again...not of his choosing.

  Now, he was in the employ of Lord De Winter, and his task was to bring this young, beautiful woman to her home, a hundred miles away. But that was not the assignment that troubled him. He had been given another task, a vile one. If he didn’t do it, he would never see beloved sister alive again.

  Traveling to De Winter Castle would not be an easy job, for it was winter and very cold. Ice and snow covered the ground in some places. But, of course, those conditions would make his other mission—that of murdering Lady Alice—easier, if all went according to his scheme.

  “How are you feeling now, Lady Alice?” The abbess put the wine goblet on the table.

  “I feel numb at the moment,” Alice replied.

  “Do you think you can travel?” The abbess asked.

  Staying here would just postpone the inevitable. He must do what he was commanded to do. His sister’s young life depended on it. But another young life must end, and the notion sickened him to his heart and soul. Still, Edmund wondered if Alice was healthy enough to travel.

  “Yes,” Alice answered. “I believe I can travel.” She gazed at the abbess. Edmund knew the reverend mother represented to the young girl all that was peaceful and good. She then regarded him.

  Her gaze made her want to squirm, but he did not. “We shall wait until morning to travel, my lady, if you are able” Edmund said. “You’ve had a terrible shock. You must recover. The road is many miles. It will take three and a half days to reach De Winter and that is under the best of conditions.”

  “I know, Sir Edmund,” Lady Alice said. “I have made the journey many times.”

  “But never in the cold weather,” he told her.

  “No, it was always in warmer weather,” the beautiful redhead replied.

  “I agree with Sir Edmund,” the abbess said. “You need rest before you proceed.”

  He wondered what the young heiress was thinking. The Lady Alice did not guess of the danger that lurked outside these walls. Nor did she have an inkling of grandfather’s other plan. He turned toward at the abbess, so Alice could not see his face and silently mouthed the wo
rds, “Tell her.”

  The abbess nodded. “I must inform you of one more thing, Lady Alice.”

  “Oh, please, Reverend Mother, no more bad news.” She sat up and then fell against the pillows.

  “It is not bad news, my child,” the abbess replied. “It is a command from your grandfather.”

  “What does he want, Reverend Mother?” Alice’s sparkling green eyes filled with curiosity.

  “Lord De Winter wishes that you pretend to be the wife of Sir Edmund Moreton for the duration of your journey.”

  “But why should he require that?” Alice’s her jaw dropped. The very idea seemed to stun her.

  “There are evil men who know of your family’s demise. Your grandfather has heard of a plan to kidnap you and force you into a marriage. Your fortune is great, Lady Alice,” the abbess said. “Whoever marries you will have access to great wealth and power.”

  Still, that was not the only danger that lurked in the shadows to pounce on the beautiful, innocent Lady Alice.

  “But the church requires that I give my consent in the matter of marriage. A forced marriage is illegal.” Alice protested. “And I refuse to comply with this ruse. I must have my privacy.”

  “But…if these terrible men threaten your grandfather or promise to destroy the village of De Winter, I think you will give your agreement,” Edmund told her.

  Alice closed her eyes, and he saw her swallow hard.

  “I suppose you are right, Sir Edmund,” Alice answered. “I shall do whatever I must to save him and the people of the village. But I do so under protest.”

  “Yes, I thought you would, my lady,” Edmund added. His truthful words would convince her to comply, and that would make her murder easier to accomplish. But he hated to perpetrate such an act of such vileness and violence.

  “What of my reputation if I travel as Sir Edmund’s wife? Everyone knows I have not married.”

  “You will travel under an assumed name, my lady,” the abbess stated. “That is what your grandfather has ordered. And the venture will be a secret. That is why the knights who escort you do not travel with their squires or a woman to act as your lady's maid. Sir Edmund selected his closest friends for this endeavor.”