“It is my hope; then he can return to us here in Bodden, his home.”
“And if he isn’t healed?”
“Then we’ll find something for him to do, he’s a warrior at heart. I can’t imagine he would like being a glorified clerk.”
“When is he to be shipped off?” she asked.
“Four of our knights are due to be returned to Wincaster at the end of the month. That’ll give him time enough to heal up for the journey. I also have to talk to you about something else.”
“Go on,” she prompted, warily.
“Well, as we were saying goodbye to the king, he mentioned that he wants to formally knight you in Wincaster, you know, in front of an adoring crowd. Doubtless, he wants to milk it for all the goodwill he can; he’s not popular with the people these days.”
“You’re saying I have to go to Wincaster?”
“Not immediately. He suggested the middle of summer, that’ll give you time to fix your armour. It took quite a beating, as you know. I’ll be accompanying you to Wincaster. We’ll leave Bodden in Sir Walter’s capable hands while I’m away. You’d best get down to the smithy and see to that armour; I suspect it will take some time to fix.”
She stood to leave, “Who is to be my chaperone in the smithy now that Gerald is unavailable?”
“I think you’re mature enough to see that nothing untoward happens, don’t you?”
She grinned, “Yes, Father,” she said, then ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek, “Thank you, Father.”
She left the room, and the baron turned to Sir Walter. “That went better than I expected,” he said.
Sir Walter smiled, “And what of the smithy? Is it going to become a problem?”
“I trust her to do the right thing. Soon, she will be away from Bodden, and I doubt she’ll be back for many years.” There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, and he downed the last of his wine. “But we have more important things to worry about. What do you think of Blackwood as our new Sergeant-at-Arms?”
* * *
Beverly made her way down to the smithy, collecting her shield to bring it along. It was badly damaged, and she wondered if Aldwin could even repair it. Perhaps it was time for a new one? She was deep in thought as she reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the smithy.
Expecting a workshop bare of people save for Aldwin, she was instead shocked to be met by a bevy of women vying for his attention. There were five of them, and they were crowded around the workbench asking questions. A bare-chested Aldwin, covered in sweat from the effort of using the forge, stood behind the counter, answering them. She stopped and watched, trying to decipher what was happening. The women all looked to be of a similar age as her. They were asking him to fashion daggers or knives for them. She knew that Aldwin's skills were sought after by many, but it only just dawned on her that others might find his physical appearance to be pleasing. She had grown up with him, had fallen in love with his mind, his personality and those steel grey eyes, but now she looked on as an observer might, and she had to agree, he was a fine physical specimen. Hours at the forge had given him a strong, chiselled body and suddenly she had the urge to interrupt this gaggle and free him from its clutches.
“Master Aldwin,” she said in a voice that was perhaps a little too loud, “I have work here for you if you’ve finished with your…socializing.”
The women all turned at once. She knew them, they were kind people, but just at this moment, they infuriated her. She was feeling possessive, hurt, and sad, all at once. “If you girls will excuse us,” she finally said, taking control of her emotions, “I need my armour repaired.” She looked at the assembled women. “Unless one of you knows how to fix this?” she said, holding up her battered shield. They bowed and left the room, giggling as they looked back over their shoulders on the way out.
She dropped the shield on the workbench and starred at Aldwin. He stood, looking back, no trace of guilt or anger, and she almost melted in his eyes.
“I, ahh,” she mumbled, suddenly at a loss for words.
He cleared his throat, “I see, m’lady, that your shield needs some repairs. How fairs the rest of your armour?”
“It, ah, needs some work too,” she said, at last, finally finding her voice. She was cursing herself. Why did she have to feel so nervous around him? Then it hit her; this was the first time she was here without a chaperone in more than a year.
“Let me see,” he said, coming around to the front of the workbench. “Stand still,” he requested, and then moved around her, examining her armour.
She blushed heavily and found her breathing becoming shallow. She forced herself to take deep breaths.
“Doesn’t look too bad, I’ll have to reforge part of the helmet, and there’s some dents to straighten out. I’m afraid your shields had it, though. I’ll have to make a new one for you. Do you want to undress now?” he said.
Her mind was suddenly awakened by his words. “What?” she said in a near panic.
“You have to remove your armour if I’m going to repair it.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she said.
“Shall I help you, m’lady?” he offered.
She felt too nervous to speak and simply nodded her head.
He moved around her carefully undoing the buckles and straps and removed the armour plating one piece at a time. To Beverly, this was like a dream, and she found herself blushing with her thoughts. Finally, he was finished, leaving her in the chainmail shirt and leggings.
He had dropped the armour onto the workbench and now walked around the other side of the table.
“When do you need the repairs by?” he asked.
“I have to go to Wincaster by mid-summer,” she answered.
Aldwin's eyes snapped up, “You're leaving Bodden again?” he asked. “How long will you be gone this time?”
She hated to see the sadness in those eyes yet again, and felt anguished.
“I’m afraid I don’t know Aldwin. I might not be back for years.” She saw the look of disappointment on his face before he tried to cover it up by examining the helmet he grasped. “I have to go to Wincaster for the knighting ceremony.”
“I thought the king knighted you in the courtyard,” he said bitterly.
“He did, but there's to be an official ceremony, the king demands it.”
“Then I shall do all I can to make you the best armour that a knight could have,” he said, a determined look taking hold of him.
“Thank you, Aldwin; I shall not forget this,” or you, she thought to herself.
* * *
The weeks seemed to drag on for an eternity. They sent Gerald off with a celebration in his honour; it was a melancholy event for everyone suspected he would not be back. Her father tried to keep his spirits up, but she knew he was losing a good friend. Gerald had been his right-hand man; he was loyal and true. He had handpicked his successor, but Sergeant Blackwood was no Gerald. He followed orders well but lacked the instincts that Gerald had honed over the years.
As the day for her to leave drew closer, Beverly made her last trip to the smithy to pick up her armour. She had been in for trial fittings over the intervening weeks, and Aldwin had done a magnificent job on the repairs. He brought out the final pieces and dressed her in her new armour. Several plates were brand new, and he had gone to extraordinary lengths to decorate them with delicate scrollwork. He had arranged for a full-length mirror to be brought to the smithy, and now she stood looking at her reflection. How she had grown, she thought; the woman in the mirror was almost unrecognizable from the little girl that had long since first walked into this smithy.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Aldwin, who coughed. She looked up to see him carrying something large, covered with a cloth; it could only be her shield. He carefully removed the covering, and she saw the final creation that he had spent so much labour on. The shield was made of metal and inlaid with the coat of arms of the Fitzwilliams. There was something different about the c
oat of arms though, and she moved closer to examine it in more detail. Above the coat of arms was a rose, embossed, into the shield as a delicate set of inlaid silver. She looked at Aldwin with surprise.
“Your father,” he said, “suggested we give you your own version of the sigil. I understand that the rose would have special meaning to you.”
“Yes,” she said, deeply touched, “it was my mother's favourite.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she moved toward Aldwin, touching his face gently with her fingertips. “You will forever be in my heart,” she said softly.
She might never see him again, but she would always remember the face, the smile, and the piercing grey eyes. She gathered up her things and left the smithy, afraid to look back. She was leaving a large part of her life behind her now, and though she didn’t know what the future would bring, she knew that she loved and was loved, and that would have to carry her through whatever might come her way.
* * *
They rode out sometime later with a detachment of guards who would escort them to Tewsbury, and from there they would continue on to the capital without guards. A carriage was accompanying them, but they chose to ride their horses for the first part of the trip. As they topped the rise leading away from Bodden, Beverly halted her horse, taking one last look at the place she had called home, and thought only of the smith she left behind.
Her father rode ahead, stopped and waited, understanding perhaps, the complex emotions that were running through her head. Then, she turned, nodded at her father, and they rode off toward Wincaster.
Sixteen
Wincaster
Summer 952 MC
It was the height of summer when the entourage from Bodden finally arrived at their destination. Beverly was the first to catch sight of the capital as they approached. The sheer size of the city was overwhelming, especially as the only example of a large city she had seen was Tewsbury, and it paled in comparison. Wincaster, being the capital of Merceria, drew people from all walks of life, swelling its population until it was nearly ready to burst. Most streets were narrow, constricting the flow of travellers, adding to the already congested thoroughfares. Those on foot struggled to make headway in the mass of humanity. Fortunately, Beverly and her father had elected to remain on their horses, leaving the carriage to follow at its own pace, to meet up with them later.
As befitted the Baron of Bodden, Lord Fitzwilliam possessed a manor house in Wincaster, but he hadn’t been back to it since the death of his beloved Evelyn; the city no longer held any interest for him. From his point of view, it had become a place filled with intrigue and corruption, and he shared these insights with Beverly. She, on the other hand, was thrilled to see, at long last, the city that the Bodden knights always carried on about. From overhearing their conversations, she had built an image of a mythical place in her mind. It only took a few moments of trotting down the street for her to perceive that the reality did not live up to the fantasy she had fabricated. It was the stench that penetrated her illusion first. Had she not been more alert, a bucket of slop tossed from a second storey window would have covered her with the smell of the city.
Beverly had chosen to enter in full knightly regalia, save the helmet, raising a few eyebrows as they rode through the streets. The sight of such a large horse was rare enough, but carrying a woman was inconceivable to nearly everyone. Numerous people stood by, awestruck, speculating who this strange person might be. More than one onlooker remarked, “Must be a foreigner.”
Having entered the capital through the West Gate, they continued along the main thoroughfare for some time, fortunately turning north to the richer area of the city, bypassing the slums. With the smell here so unpleasant, Beverly did not want to imagine what odours would waft her way had they headed south instead. Almost immediately upon turning onto Royal Avenue, the quality of the buildings improved, leading to the Royal Palace, in all its glory. The Palace was huge, and Beverly realized that it was bigger than the entire Keep at Bodden. Surrounding the Royal Residence were the capital's largest houses, with well-cut lawns, while upon the street, the ornate carriages traversed slowly, seemingly without a care in the world. This was the first time that Beverly glimpsed the town guards patrolling, chasing away merchants that should not be hawking their wares in this part of town. In the midst of all this affluence was a noticeably derelict house. Her father explained that it belonged to the Royal Life Mage, a man of unusual habits.
Finally, they reached the manor house, where the waiting staff greeted them. Beverly insisted on seeing to Lightning herself, creating quite a stir with the servants. While she was busy in the stables, their carriage arrived, and the servants began to unload their trunks, giving her the time she needed to finish with her steed. Upon entering the house, her father suggested they change and make their way through the town on a little sightseeing tour. She readily agreed, and in less time than it had taken her to tend to her mount, they were walking toward the Palace. She had changed into a walking dress but still carried her sword. Her father, knowing better, didn’t say anything, but many people on the streets gawked at them.
As they neared the Palace, her father stopped her, "Beverly, we need to go in here. They used to make the best cheese I have ever tasted. Let's find out if they still do," he said, ushering her into a local tavern called the Queen’s Arms.
They walked into a large open room, with tables strewn about in a rather haphazard manner. There were clients of all types here ranging from nobles, like themselves, down to middle-income commoners. She saw an Elf sipping wine at one table while a Dwarf, sitting across from her, noisily gulped down an ale from a massive tankard. Her father went directly to the right side of the room, where he could sit with his back to the wall. Many different discussions floated about, but none loud enough to impede her father's conversation with the server.
Much to his delight, they still served Hawksburg Gold, the elusive cheese from his youth. As the platter was walked by Beverly, on the way to her father, she sniffed the foulest smell she could imagine. She fought back the urge to gag and ordered a hot cider which she kept as close to her nose as possible to cover the stench, but her father kept talking.
"Father, honestly, your breath is enough to kill a donkey," she interrupted him.
He merely laughed, and she swore he purposefully exhaled into her face. Surprisingly, she smiled to see her father in such high spirits. Bodden was his job, his responsibility, but here he began to relax. As he ate the cheese, she looked at him and realized how much he had aged in the past few years.
“Must you eat so much of that, Father?” she asked.
“Oh, my dear," he said, "you have no idea. We have to go and talk to the bureaucrats at the Palace. I want my breath to be as bad as possible.”
She looked at him, trying to determine if he was joking.
“It’s simple,” he said. “No one wants to keep someone around if their breath is so foul, and until I have the answers I need, I’ll be sticking around.” He smiled as if his reasoning was obvious.
She wasn’t sure of her father's tactic, but chose not to say anything for the moment. Leaving, they made their way to the Palace, where she had her first encounter with bureaucrats in the capital. Beverly thought that she would simply have to check in to find out the details of the ceremony. After being sent to clerk after clerk, she realized that this would be anything but easy.
Each clerk needed to confirm the date of Beverly’s investiture before speaking with her. After repeating herself so many times she was just about ready to give up, the last clerk finally told her that she needed to be assigned to a duty roster. She was a knight now, and officially under the command of the king. Typically this meant someone would assign her duties, as the king seldom intervened, and so the clerk dispatched runners to determine if she had any current assignments waiting for her. The entire experience felt like a colossal waste of time. Beverly said as much to her father, but he just laughed.
It was n
ot just all the unnecessary paperwork that she disliked at the Palace, it was the knights who were everywhere, leering at young women, herself included. These knights were all young men, in their prime, with highly polished armour that had never seen a battle. She did her best to ignore them but quickly grew tired of their lecherous stares and scurrilous remarks. Had her father not been there to keep her in check, she was sure she would have challenged the lot of them to a duel, even though she thought the practice a waste of time; she would have at least put a dent in their perfect armour!
In the end, they got what they needed without bloodshed. The investiture was one week away, and until then, Beverly would stay at the manor, moving into the barracks after the ceremony. For most knights, if there was not an assignment for them in the capital, they, or their family would find a sponsor, who would then request the knight from the king. This had been the custom for years, but she was a woman, and that presented all new challenges to the Royal Court. The clerk agreed to send word when the arrangements were made, and with their objective complete, they returned to their Wincaster home, to find an unexpected surprise.
A carriage was standing in front, unloading her Uncle Robert and his family, including Aubrey, who, upon seeing her, ran over to say hello. It was a warm welcome, and she felt more at home now. Lord Robert had come down from Hawksburg to watch the investiture, and the whole family had insisted on accompanying him.
Later in the evening, after consuming a delicious meal and talking about family matters, she sat with her father and uncle as they sipped their wine. Aubrey, as was her usual habit, was in her father's lap when the conversation took a particularly interesting turn.
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