“Well if the prince doesn’t want you, you can come over here and serve me,” offered Bernard.
“Wait a moment,” said the prince, “Dame Beverly, I know that name. Weren’t you the one that got into that trouble in Shrewesdale?” the man grinned.
“Oh yes,” agreed Bernard, “the one that tried to lie with all the earl’s knights. Didn’t know you’d gotten us all a present, Your Highness.”
“I am here to protect you, Your Highness,” she said, ignoring the jibes, “and I can outfight anyone here.”
“A pretty bold statement, Dame Beverly. I’ve some pretty impressive fellows in my retinue.”
“Let me prove myself,” she said, “and then you decide if I’m valuable to have around.”
“I see a wager coming,” said Bernard, “shall I call the others?”
Prince Henry looked Beverly straight in the eyes, weighing her determination. “Yes, and assemble the knights. Let’s see who’s willing to take on this Lady Knight.”
It only took a few moments to summon the knights. The prince's friends, however, took considerably longer, and from the looks of them, many were either hung over or still drunk.
Prince Henry lined his men up. He had twenty knights, all sons of influential or rich nobles, and they looked the part. Their armour was immaculate, their weapons obviously expensive, but Beverly sized them up quickly; not one had the look of an experienced fighter.
“Which one shall you fight?” the prince asked her.
“That is for Your Highness to decide,” she responded. “You know them better than I. Who is your best?”
Henry looked to Bernard for the answer. “Sir Galliard, no doubt,” said Bernard. “I mean, look at the size of the man, he’s huge.”
Beverly sighed. Nobles always thought big means better. Sir Heward had been large, but it was his experience which made him dangerous, not his size. These young men all looked pampered and spoiled.
“Very well, Your Highness, shall we begin?”
“Yes, by all means. Perhaps on the grass where we can all see you?” Prince Henry requested
She walked down to the grass, drawing her weapon and swinging it to loosen up her shoulders. Sir Galliard took up a position opposite her, doing likewise. They both looked at the prince.
“As you may,” he said.
Beverly shifted her feet slightly, acting as if she were nervous. Sir Galliard, immediately falling into her trap, lunged forward. She nimbly sidestepped and struck her opponent across the back with the flat of her blade. The gathered crowd responded with a collective gasp. She rotated as the knight turned around to confront her, his face growing redder by the moment.
He held his shield up and advanced slowly this time, more wary of her. If she had her shield, she would have played it differently, but she needed to finish this quickly and assert her position. Sir Galliard predictively used his shield to attempt to block her next attack. At the last moment, she pulled the swing short then jabbed at his exposed shins. The man yelped and jumped back. The crowd laughed and more than one noble jeered.
Sir Galliard approached once more, this time crouching to provide better shield protection. She stepped forward with her sword above her head as if to impart an overhand strike, and he raised his shield, blocking his own view. She grasped the top of the shield with her left hand and pulled it down to reveal the surprised look on the man's face as she placed the tip of her blade at his throat. Clapping erupted from the audience, but Beverly kept her eyes on her opponent.
“Impressive, Dame Beverly,” said the prince. “Tell me; are all your victories so quick?”
She withdrew her blade and bowed to Sir Galliard, “No, Your Highness, sometimes I have to break a sweat.”
There was a murmur in the ranks as the knights argued amongst themselves.
“Perhaps, Your Highness,” said Bernard, “one of your other knights thinks they can defeat her?”
Henry looked at his men. “Very well, who among you dares face the wrath of Fitz the Younger here?”
Beverly smiled at the compliment; being compared to her father was an honour.
As the knights huddled together she saw some of them shaking their heads; was not even one of them willing to face her?
Finally, one of the knights was pushed forward slightly. He bowed, “I shall defeat her, My Prince,” he said.
“Very well, Sir Clifford, off you go, but before you start, Lady Beverly, did you bring a shield? I should very much like to see the quality of your shield work.” He turned to Bernard. “I always like to see a shield in use; it’s so valorous, don’t you agree?”
“It is the true test of mettle,” the man agreed.
“Yes, Your Highness, it’s back with my horse.”
“Let’s have someone retrieve it for you.” He pointed at a servant, who ran off to gather the shield.
“You have interesting armour,” commented the prince pleasantly, “I don’t believe I’ve seen its like before. Who made it?”
“The smith in Bodden, Your Highness,” she replied.
“Really? I would have thought it made by a master smith; he must command a high price for such work.”
“He is in service to my father, the baron.”
“Well, he does you proud,” said the prince.
The servant arrived, awkwardly carrying the shield. She took it from him, holding it in her left hand.
“Now,” continued the prince, “let’s be fair, no head strikes, we don’t want any fatalities today. You may begin.”
Sir Clifford advanced cautiously, swinging the sword lightly, testing her reflexes. She blocked the blow effortlessly then, as he stepped back slightly, she took a step forward, smashing her shield against his, with the full weight of her body behind it. Her opponent had not braced to absorb the blow, and she had instantly spotted it, taking advantage of his being off-balance to push him down to the ground, his shield falling to the side. She stepped over him, placing the blade at his throat.
“Yield,” she said calmly.
“I yield,” Sir Clifford pleaded.
The prince chuckled, “I see your reputation is well earned, Dame Beverly. Welcome to my guard.”
Bernard turned to the prince, “Your Highness, is that wise, she’s lain with women, she can’t be trusted.”
“I don’t give a rat's arse who she’s lain with, the woman can fight. Besides, if she likes women, we don’t have to worry about the men diddling her, do we?”
Bernard shook his head, “I suppose not, Your Highness.”
The prince turned back to Beverly, “I am most impressed Lady Fitz. I shall have the servants prepare a room for you. We’ll settle you in, and you can start on your duties tomorrow. I understand you have some experience in battle; saved my father, if I’m not mistaken?”
The other knights looked shocked by this news.
“Yes, Your Highness, I have that honour,” she agreed.
“Good, then perhaps I’ll have you see to the pickets tomorrow, I’ve a feeling that they’re not very secure. In the meantime, you can unpack and get something to eat.” He turned to one of the servants, “Sanders, see that Lady Fitz is looked after.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the servant replied.
Beverly left the patio, pleased that the first part of her plan was now complete. She was not sure how things would unfold, but the first step had been accomplished The prince looked like a nice enough fellow, but she was not going to take chances. That night she slept with locked doors and weapons at hand; she had had far too many bad experiences with knights.
* * *
In addition to the knights, the prince travelled with a number of foot soldiers. These palace guards were numerous, but woefully under-trained for their duties. The placement of the pickets was a complete mess; you could march an army of men through them and not be noticed. She moved guards around to strategic locations, making sure they were always within sight of each other at all times. They were decent men but lacked pr
oper training, so she resolved, with permission from the prince, to spend time drilling them each day.
With regular practise, their skills quickly improved, and within days they were doing their jobs without much supervision. Prince Henry was impressed and let her have free rein with the rest of the men. The knights were more aloof and went out of their way to insinuate that she preferred women. Knowing that any rebuttal on her behalf would just make them more insistent, she ignored them and soon the jibes stopped.
The prince kept himself occupied; during the day he would go hunting, and in the evenings, women from the town were brought to the estate. The women were quite willing, for the prince was a generous man, and much more refined than their usual clientele. Beverly tried to politely refuse the offer when the prince decided, in an admittedly drunken state, that she should also derive some pleasure from his generosity and sent a woman her way. Beverly had to awkwardly explain that she was not interested, and the woman laughed it off as she was still paid no matter what occurred, so the two of them shared a drink and chatted to pass the time. It was odd, she thought, how two women, from vastly different backgrounds, could converse in such a friendly manner. If only men were capable of discussing things without the need for intimate relations.
* * *
They stayed at the Eastwood estate for a few more weeks, until Prince Henry received a letter from his mother. He ordered them all to be ready to depart the next day to take the long trip to Burrstoke. Apparently, Her Majesty wanted to see her sons, and had written to the prince. He was to go to Haverston to pick up his younger brother, Prince Alfred, and then travel on to Burrstoke. Beverly didn’t know why, but the soldiers told her that once a year the queen would summon her sons for a visit. No one thought it unusual and, as she learned, the queen loved Burrstoke, or, more specifically, the Glowan Hills where a Royal Estate was built to her own tastes. The trip would be a lengthy one, with the first stop in Wincaster, then west on the king's road, turning south at Stilldale, and ending up at Haverston. She wondered why they went so far out of their way, for it would have been a shorter route to go through Burrstoke, but she supposed that the queen might be insulted if they travelled through the town without visiting her.
The journey itself was without incident. Beverly rode with the troops and placed pickets at night. She made sure they screened the prince and his retinue as they travelled, with riders in front, behind and to the sides. They were to range far ahead and return if danger should threaten, but despite Henry’s concern for his safety, no assassins appeared.
The route was more than 300 miles, and they managed to cover almost twenty most days. Including the stopover at Wincaster, the trip took just shy of three weeks. Their arrival in Haverston brought Beverly back to a darker time, as she had not been this way since her flight from Shrewesdale.
Both princes had additional titles, besides being that of being a prince. Alfred, the younger of the two, was also the Viscount of Haverston, awarded to him by his father, while Henry was the Duke of Wincaster, the traditional title of the heir to the throne. Alfred acted like he was disillusioned by being the spare to the throne, at least this was Beverly's opinion of the moody and opinionated young man. He cared little for his servants and ordered people about with no regard for their feelings.
Beverly kept out of the younger prince's way, busying herself with pickets and duty rosters. When she had started with the pickets, she found they were on duty for twelve hours at a stretch. She took it upon herself to make sure they had a proper duty roster which allowed for breaks. The foot guards responded with a fierce pride in her, their new captain. More than once she heard of fights breaking out in taverns, no doubt caused by her reputation being bandied about by others.
Late one evening, Beverly finished inspecting the pickets and headed over to the field kitchen to grab a bite to eat. The cook filled a wooden bowl with a meaty stew, along with some bread. She took it over to a table and sat down, grabbing a spoon on her way. She was halfway through her meal when Sergeant Phillips sat down, nodding at her.
“His Highness is in a terrible temper,” he said.
Beverly looked up, “How so?”
“Apparently he asked for volunteers from his knights, and no one stepped up.”
“Volunteers for what?” she asked.
“Some sort of bodyguard duty,” replied the sergeant digging into his bowl of stew with gusto. He lookup up from his food to see Beverly was gone, her stew still sitting on the table. The sergeant shrugged; knights could be so strange sometimes. He looked around and, not seeing anyone, poured her stew into his bowl and continued eating.
She entered the great hall in the middle of a conversation. Alfred and Henry were sitting at the table facing the entranceway, the knights aligned along either wall, the entire setup forming a big U shape.
“She’s still a royal, Alfred,” Henry was saying, “and we can’t have people attacking a royal.”
“But she’s illegitimate,” Alfred replied, “who cares; she’s not in line to the throne. Even if Father acknowledged her, she can’t inherit, she’s a girl.”
“Don’t you get it, you thick-headed twit. The death of any royal would be bad. We rule by divine right. If we can be killed the whole divine part goes out the window.”
Alfred grumbled and muttered something under his breath.
“Your Highness,” Beverly said, walking up to stand directly in front of the table. “I understand you were looking for a volunteer.”
Prince Henry looked at her a moment. “Yes,” he said, “I want to send someone to act as a bodyguard.”
Beverly held her breath; this was what her father was hoping for. “May I ask for whom?"
“My sister. Well, my youngest sister, that is. Her name's Anna.”
“I would like to volunteer, Your Highness.”
“How do we know she’s worthy?” grumbled Alfred.
“You haven’t seen her fight,” snapped Henry.
Alfred sat up, “She can fight? I thought she could only screw.”
The knights laughed nervously while Beverly held her tongue.
“Don’t be such a cur, Alfred. Yes, she can fight; she bested two of my knights in a row.”
“I’d like to see that,” he said. “After all if she’s going to protect this ‘sister’ of ours she’d have to be good.”
“Very well,” said Prince Henry. “Will you, Lady Fitz, be so good as to demonstrate your abilities?”
Some of the knights snickered, for Alfred’s men did not know of her skill with weapons. She knew this was it, an all or nothing gamble that would secure the prize. She must not let her father down.
Beverly turned to Alfred, “Choose your three best men; I’ll take them all on at the same time.”
Alfred almost choked on his drink. “Three men! By Saxnor’s beard, for a woman you’ve got some hefty balls!”
Henry smiled, obviously enjoying his brother's disbelief. “Let’s move outside, Brother, we don’t want to mess up the hall, and she’ll need some room. Gather your men, any melee weapons they like, and have them meet up out front. Lady Fitz? If you would like to retrieve your gear?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” she responded.
She went to retrieve her shield and decided to do something completely unexpected. She knew it was different, but she was facing multiple opponents, and she had trained for this.
A crowd had gathered, including some townsfolk, who, having heard the commotion, had come to investigate, and had joined in, forming a rough circle. Alfred’s three best knights stood inside it, ready to fight. The crowd opened to allow Dame Beverly entrance. She stepped forward, a warhammer in her right hand and a longsword in her left. The three knights looked at each other; this was completely unexpected.
She knew the stakes; this was not the time to shy away from the challenge. She should expect no mercy from Alfred’s champions, knowing how the younger prince felt about her. Each knight before her wore heavy chain and plate,
with a full helmet. She eyed them carefully as they moved about, warming up. Their helmets drastically reduced their vision. Hers would also restrict vision, but Aldwin had seen fit to put vents on the side, and this helped immensely with her battle awareness.
She flipped the visor down and stepped forward, waiting for her opponents to make the first move. She didn’t have long to wait. The first one rushed forward with a powerful overhead strike, which she easily blocked with her sword, at the same time swinging her hammer sideways, hitting him on the shield arm he had failed to raise properly. He dropped his weapon and clutched his injured arm, moving away from the fray.
The second two had delayed, waiting and watching the first attack, and as soon as the lead knight moved aside, they rushed in, stabbing furiously with their swords. She swept their blades aside with her hammer; it’s weighted end easily knocking the lighter blades away, then she thrust with her own sword, lightly sticking the second man in the chest. It was only a small wound, but it put him off his guard. The man yelled an obscenity and backed up. Her original foe was shouting instructions now; he wanted to encircle her. They all backed up and began repositioning themselves. She knew she couldn’t stop them, so she didn’t even try. She let them get into position, and then suddenly launched an all-out attack on the knight in front of her. She struck him first with her sword, which he blocked with his shield, and then she hooked the shield with her hammer and yanked it toward her. This manoeuvre threw him off balance, and he lurched forward, directly into the path of her sword. Beverly felt the tip injure the man just under the armpit. He gave a yelp and shouted, “I yield,” in a panicked voice. She wheeled suddenly, ducking as a sword swung over her head, then rose from her crouch to drive her hammer into her rival's groin. It was not a forceful hit, but it impacted the man's codpiece, and he immediately dropped his sword and shield, crumpling to the ground, holding himself.
Feeling a sword glance off her back, she silently thanked Aldwin for her fine armour. She twisted, swinging her hammer wildly with all her might. The impact of it striking the final knight's shield reverberated up her arm. His shield crumpled in the middle, and he dropped it, shaking the arm that was now numb from the impact. She immediately stepped forward, thrusting with her sword. The knight clumsily tried to block it, so she twisted the blade at the moment it struck. His sword flew through the air leaving him defenceless.
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