Perils of Wrath

by Park, Elsie

  “You go on to cena. I’ll see you there soon,” he said to Heath and his little squire.

  “Oh, you want to freshen up for the knights, eh?” Heath joked.

  “Oh, how droll you are.” Roland sent a lenient glare toward his friend. “No. I require a meeting with the chamber pot. Would you care to know more?” Roland grinned, knowing full well he wouldn’t.

  Heath raised his hand up, palm forward. “By heaven, no. Keep those details to yourself.”

  Bryant laughed and Roland grinned as he turned in the direction of his chamber. Heath escorted his squire to the great hall.

  After Roland took care of his personal business, he headed straight to the evening meal, reflecting on the day as he went.

  Roland had been genuinely interested in the work Audri made him do. Yes, it was a bit embarrassing, but he hadn’t realized that kind of work was so difficult and intricate. He’d gained a healthy respect for it. And the touch of Audri’s hand on his at the weavers. She had been so gentle, so patient with him, quite the opposite of how he trained her. She had an opportunity to treat him the same way he had treated her, yet she didn’t. There was no yelling on her part. She had used words of encouragement and praise for what he’d done, and that made him want to do better. It was another reminder that one didn’t need to yell, that patience taught better than impatience. He needed to implement that in his own instructing.

  His mind turned to their dance session. He’d been a little surprised that her larger form, which he noted was strengthening and slimming down, had moved so fluidly, so gracefully. She’d smiled and seemed at ease, completely relaxed. It was a side of her he liked to see. His duty was to train her hard—to tame her and make her docile—but he realized he didn’t need to. She already possessed those qualities. She simply showed them to whom she liked.

  She had seemed to enjoy spending the day with him, but then she didn’t want to sup in his presence in the end. She blamed it on the great hall’s atmosphere, but perhaps the truth was that she didn’t fully consider him a comrade. But was it any wonder after his outburst last night? Knights and squires should be friends, though. It garnered essential trust between them. But it seemed he still had a long way to go before they achieved that, and he knew that managing his anger would be the key.

  Roland approached the entrance to the great hall, but it was barred by none other than the stocky frames of the twin knights, Sirs Hammond and Harold, who stood scrutinizing him. Roland’s pace slowed and he lifted his chin, piercing them with a wary eye.

  What are those rogues up to? They’d likely found out he’d complained about their behavior. Do they mean to harass me? His body stiffened. He stopped six feet from them, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt.

  “Sir Roland,” one of them spoke. Being identical in their faces and straight shoulder-length blond hair, he couldn’t tell one from the other. “We owe you . . .” he began as Roland steeled himself. Owe me what? A punch in the face? A duel? “An apology.”

  Oh. Roland hadn’t expected that.

  “We have been instructed,” the other one said, “to apologize for our ill behavior toward you and your,” he paused, a minuscule sneer playing at the corner of his mouth, as if his words were difficult to deliver, “squire.”

  The first one spoke again. “We have also been instructed,” there was that word again, as if they were making it clear they weren’t doing this of their own accord, that had it been up to them, an apology wouldn’t have come at all, “to leave you to your business without further interference from us.”

  They didn’t bow or even nod to Roland, another indication they had been coerced into delivering their message. They’d obviously received orders from someone above their rank. Did they fear penalties should they not follow through? To be honest, Roland didn’t care, as long as they left him and Audri alone.

  Roland nodded to them, holding himself to the knight’s standard of courtesy as much as he loathed the men. “I accept your apologies.”

  With the unpleasant deed done, the twins abruptly turned and entered the great hall, sitting themselves down among their cronies. Not fully trusting them, Roland decided he’d still treat them with caution.

  Roland plunked himself down next to Sir Heath in their usual spot at one of the long tables parallel to the wall. Bryant sat at the squires’ table. The knights gobbled down portions of pheasant, lamb, and pork, complementing the saltiness with a variety of cooked dried fruits.

  Roland leaned to Heath at his right and said in a low voice, “An apology was just delivered to me by way of the twins. Did you have anything to do with it?”

  Heath smiled. “Well, now, I might have.”

  “Their regret seemed forced at best, but I accepted it, such as it was.”

  “Good.” Heath nodded, taking a bite of his pynade, a sweet brittle consisting of honey, pine nuts, cinnamon, and ginger.

  “And how, may I ask, did you achieve it?”

  “Ohhh, I have a high-ranking connection who may or may not have threatened them with the stocks should they bother you again,” Heath replied, stealing more pieces of pynade from the serving tray.

  “Really. And who is that?”

  “Sir Doyle.”

  Roland’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know he cared.”

  “He doesn’t,” Heath replied, “but after I told him you were ready to quit due to the persecution, he saw the importance of keeping you contented enough to remain as Audri’s trainer.”

  “Ah. So he did it not because the twins were in the wrong but for his own selfish purposes in avoiding the trouble of finding someone else willing to fill my controversial position?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well, I’ll take it. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” Heath smiled and handed Roland a piece of brittle. Roland took it and popped the treat into his mouth.

  The honeyed savor reminded him of the sweet connection he and Audri had experienced today. And with the addition of the twins’ apology, Roland felt things were looking up for once.

  Chapter 9

  The remainder of the week’s training went as well as it could with the mud, drenching rain, and rude comments from the other knights about Roland doing women’s work. Good gossip traveled fast. But at least he didn’t hear any snide remarks from the worst of the offenders, the twins.

  “You see?” an older knight had said in the training tent. “I told you she’d have him trained as a woman before he makes her a knight.” This garnered an outburst of laughter that lasted longer than Roland cared to suffer. He took his squire and left the offensive atmosphere to seek another place to train.

  Roland put Audri in chainmail for the first time to see how she’d fare with the extra weight. He was satisfied to find she kept up with him, successfully clearing logs and rocks they jumped over. Her movements with the sword, though slightly hindered by the mail, were still proficient and skillful. Her breathing was labored for sure, but she didn’t quit, nor did she complain, to his amazement. Maybe she’s too tired to protest, Roland thought with a grin.

  There was something different in their relationship ever since the night they danced. It was like he was seeing her through new eyes, like he had stepped into her shoes and understood her better. Because of this, he found it easier to praise her efforts, even with her imperfections. He didn’t jump straight to yelling at her but remained patient and encouraging. He found she was more willing to try again and to try harder.

  And a wonderful thing happened. He felt better about himself.

  He granted Audri another Saturday off and decided he’d go with her to the village. He still needed to buy a stool to replace the one he’d broken over a month ago, but the truth was that he enjoyed seeing her in more carefree environments.

  However, when he mentioned to Audri and Gail that he’d be going with them, they protes
ted.

  “Oh, Sir Roland,” Audri said, shaking her head, “you would be bored out of your mind accompanying us.”

  “Yes,” Gail piped in, nodding her agreement. “Chatting with old ladies, purchasing new clothes, you’d be champing at the bit to escape it.”

  The women gave each other a sideways glance, and Audri seemed to be holding her breath.

  Disturbing thoughts entered his mind as to why they’d be so adamant about his not going with them. Did he mistake the recent amiable connection between him and Audri? Maybe deep down she still abhorred him just as much as the day they met. His stomach flipped with displeasure. Or maybe there was another reason. Perhaps her outward show in resisting sweets was simply a ruse. Had she been waiting for another day in the village to obtain more despite all she had gone through because of the shortbread debacle? Old habits and old tastes were hard to overcome and could return in an instant with the right temptation.

  Either way, their efforts to dissuade him only made him more eager to go.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go on my own then. There’s no law saying I can’t go to the village at the same time you do. If we happen to see each other in the streets, so be it.”

  The ladies looked at each other with uncertain expressions, Audri finally giving a hesitant nod.

  Their reaction was strange, very strange, and Roland swore he would find out why.

  On Saturday morning, Audri and Gail kept whispering between themselves throughout breakfast, occasionally glancing at Roland from the squires’ table when they thought he wasn’t looking. What’s the cunning pair up to? I might require some help in keeping an eye on them. After the ladies finished eating, they returned to their chamber to prepare for their trip to the village. Roland sought out Sir Heath to see if he’d join him. He hadn’t seen Heath at breakfast. Maybe he was in his chamber?

  Roland exited the great hall and walked down the corridor toward the knights’ quarters. He approached a corner and heard two men speaking in semi-hushed tones. One voice was Heath’s, the other was Sir Doyle’s. Roland slowed his pace and stepped softly until he was ten feet from the corner where he stopped to listen.

  “It’s been weeks, Heath,” he heard Doyle say with a frustrated air. “And you’re saying you’ve learned nothing?”

  “I’ve learned one thing: that he’s reticent to speak about himself,” Heath responded. “He’s someone who takes a while to open up.”

  Who are they talking about? Being that Roland refused to talk about his family or past, they could be talking about him. It wasn’t the first time he’d suspected that. But maybe they spoke of someone else—perhaps a prisoner facing interrogation? Did Heath participate in ruthless interrogations as well? Roland had a hard time picturing Heath doing that.

  “Well, we don’t have forever. If you aren’t up to the task, I’ll set someone else to it, understand?”

  “Understood, Sir Doyle.” Was that a hint of animosity in Heath’s voice?

  “Good,” Doyle finished with obvious annoyance.

  Roland sneered. Everyone disliked Sir Doyle, it seemed, even the man he had mentored into knighthood. But no one, including Heath, dared to defy Doyle, a man who could end his employment, or his life, with the snap of his fingers.

  After hearing the encounter, Roland’s uncertainty concerning Heath resurfaced. He didn’t want to think his comrade might harbor ulterior motives in befriending him. He prayed he was wrong in his doubts.

  The shuffle of boots against the wooden floor signaled their movement. Roland walked forward, meeting them head on as they came around the corner.

  “Ah, Sir Heath, there you are,” Roland exclaimed, acting surprised to see anyone there. “I was just looking for you.” Heath’s expression was pensive, almost grim. “Sir Doyle.” Roland turned to the head knight, acknowledging him with a nod.

  Doyle nodded back, glancing at Heath with a lifted silver eyebrow. Doyle then strutted past and disappeared down the corridor, heading in the direction of the dungeon.

  “What say you to an outing in the village—in the company of two certain females?” Roland invited.

  Heath’s melancholy expression turned to delight, a slow smile cracking his lips. “Well, now, I might be able to work that in.”

  Roland wondered, not for the first time, how Heath managed to so often set aside duty in lieu of gallivanting around with him and his female charges. He never asked because he figured it was none of his business how Heath managed his days. If Heath had the time to help, great, if not, Roland understood. Still, he’d received more aid from Heath than he’d expected. He even refused to take the pay Roland offered him for the job, saying he received enough from his usual position. Still, Roland hoped Heath wasn’t lying to his superiors to be with him . . . or to be with Gail. He didn’t want to see Heath get into trouble over a duty that was fully Roland’s responsibility.

  “Tell me again why I agreed to accompany the ladies in town only to hang back and not enjoy their company—and in the icy drizzle of all things?” Heath, leaning against the outer wall of the carpenter’s shop, gripped his thick cloak tighter around his body as he spoke through the open window to where Roland searched inside for a stool.

  “Just keep an eye on them and tell me if they go anywhere near the pastry shop,” Roland said without looking up from the furniture.

  “So you simply called me out to raise the alarm should they touch anything resembling a sweet treat? This is dull,” Heath said in a tired manner.

  Roland spied a petite stool nearly identical to the one he’d broken. He snatched it up and dug into the small pouch hanging from his belt for the necessary amount of coins. After handing them to the carpenter, he exited the shop and searched the crowd for his squire. She had moved on to the florist, but she examined no blooms. She simply chatted with the shop owner. Heath was right: this was dull. Maybe he should have listened to the ladies when they suggested he let them be.

  The pair moved on and the knights followed, allowing a good thirty feet between them. So far, making no purchases, they merely greeted and talked with select villagers, occasionally looking back at their “knight shadows.” What was so important about their trips to the village that made them venture out in the rain only to gab with others?

  Women.

  The town housed a large amount of families, herdsmen, farmers, and merchants of every kind. Two- and three-story houses were lined up in rows, creating alleys and roads through which people mingled, did business, and caroused. It was a booming and productive community despite the harsh rule of Lord Craven and its proximity to the precarious Scottish border.

  “Tell me about this place I’ve found myself in, Heath,” Roland stated as they sloshed their way through the saturated streets, their heads covered by their hoods. “Guildon is known all around as the fortress the Scots won’t touch.”

  Heath nodded as he grabbed a chunk of cheese from a tray in the window of the dairy shop. He placed a coin on the tray as payment and then broke a portion off, popping it into his mouth.

  “Why is that?” Roland posed, tugging his full-length wool cloak tighter around his body as the wind picked up. The strong breeze threw the scent of sewage and rotting food in their direction. “Why doesn’t Guildon get even a whiff of Scottish fury? I think it odd, don’t you? It’s like Guildon has been completely taken off their map of places to conquer.”

  Heath glanced at him. “Guildon has formidable walls, mountains to its back, and some of the most fearsome knights in England.” It sounded like he was reciting a practiced line that he’d repeated many times before.

  “Yes, but I’ve never known Scots, who have brave warriors like the deceased William Wallace, to not even attempt taking a fortress based solely on those reasons. I might understand a hesitation if Edward I still held his ‘hammer’ over them, but the nonchalant attitude of his son is enough to encourage even co
wards to try their hand at attack—and cowards the Scots are not. No, there’s something more.” Roland knew of some castles and their lands that remained “hidden” to enemy eyes with the help of monetary leverage, but there were also more treacherous trades for protection, all of which were considered treasonous. Did Guildon claim such an arrangement with the groups in Scotland? He didn’t put it past Festus, but finding proof would be difficult, and dangerous no doubt.

  Heath only shrugged, his eyes remaining on the ladies ahead of them. Why won’t Heath look at me? Does he suspect something as well but is too troubled to voice it?

  “I’d imagine there are quite a few Scots who have left their homeland to live here,” Roland said, veering the subject toward his personal vendetta that had been forced into a secondary station since coming under his training position.

  “Yes, a few, though they are continually under suspicion of being untrue to England.” Heath finally glanced at him.

  “And has there been any proof to this end?”

  “Not much . . . but I remember a Scottish man and woman many years back when I was a young knight. They were found guilty of spying for their homeland. They were arrested, put in prison, and eventually hanged.”

  Roland swallowed hard. Could he be referring to the Fletcher couple he’d found in the records—his possible birth parents? “Why does this couple from so long ago stand out in your memory?”

  They halted as Audri and Gail made another stop to talk with someone. Heath placed more cheese in his mouth and stared ahead, not seeming to look at anything in particular. “A young man’s mind is impressionable. Some things are remembered better than others when one has been recently knighted.” After a minute of silence, in which he seemed to be pondering, Heath looked down at the rest of his food as if losing his appetite. He threw it to a scruffy mutt in the street.

  The memory must have been troubling for Heath to throw away his cheese. Roland didn’t dare ask if he remembered their names. That would be showing too much curiosity to detail and invite return questions about himself that Roland wasn’t willing to answer. He hoped Heath would volunteer the information about the couple, but he didn’t. Roland let the subject drop, frustrated at the slow progress he was making. He again changed the subject somewhat. “I’m curious. Have you heard the screams in the castle? It’s a bit unnerving to me, but they don’t seem to bother most of the inhabitants.”