Warrior's Moon A Love Story

by Jaclyn Hawkes

  ‘Twasn’t long after she’d discovered the old man that one afternoon when Isabella and Chantaya were in the woods with Peyton, and as Isabella was gathering herbs near a small ravine, she fell. Chantaya heard her give a small gasp, but didn’t think much of it until she looked around and saw her mother lying motionless at the bottom of the wash.

  She was not moving and Chantaya gave a larger gasp of her own and tried not to scream. She flew down the side of the wash and was kneeling at her mother’s side as Peyton looked over the edge of the hill above her and then vaulted over to slide down to them. “What happened?”

  Chantaya shook her head. “I don’t know. One minute she was beside me and then . . . She must have hit a rock with her head. Is she going to be all right?”

  Peyton nodded, although he grimaced as he did so. “I think she’ll be fine. Have you water in your skin?”

  “Yes.” Chantaya scrambled back up the slope to fetch it, then slid back down. Peyton took her water skin and trickled a bit onto Isabella’s face, but she didn’t react to it and Chantaya turned a worried face to Peyton again.

  He put a hand on her shoulder and reassured her, “She’ll be fine, Chani. Don’t worry.”

  Chantaya inhaled a huge breath at his encouragement. She should have known everything would be fine with Peyton here. They sat next to her mother for several minutes, splashing the water again occasionally and finally, Chantaya said, “She’s not going to wake up yet, Pey. You’re going to have to carry her home.”

  He looked at her and rolled his eyes. “I can’t carry your mother nigh two miles back home, Chani.”

  Chantaya looked up at him in puzzlement. “Why ever not?”

  “I’m fourteen years old, Chani. I’m big for my age, but don’t be silly. I could carry her for a time, but we’re a long way from your cottage. We’ll have to go get my father. And bring the cart.”

  “But you’re strong. I’ve seen you splitting the wood and carrying heavy things. And that will take hours to fetch the cart! ‘Twill be dark! What about the wolves? I’m sure you’re strong enough.”

  He shook his head with a worried look. “I’m not strong enough. I’m sorry. And I don’t know what to do about the wolves. Can you stay here with her? I’ll build a fire for you and you can keep it burning to keep animals away until we get back. Or do you want me to stay and you go for Father?”

  The thought of either frightened Chantaya terribly. Finally, she had an idea. “I know! We’ll go to the stone cottage. He’ll help us. I know he will! He’s old, but he’s still strong. I’m sure he is.”

  “Who? What stone cottage?”

  “Just over the hill. There’s a stone cottage with an old man and his old, old horse. He’ll help us.”

  Peyton’s eyes narrowed, questioning. “What are you talking about? You’ve been visiting a man in the woods here?”

  “No. I haven’t visited him. I’ve just seen him. A couple of times. He’s gentle to his horse. He’ll help us, I know it.”

  “Chani, you shouldn’t have been anywhere near a stranger. How did you find him?”

  Chantaya only got up to begin trotting into the woods and Peyton immediately jumped up and followed her, grumbling as he jogged, “Chani, stop. We can’t leave her. You don’t even know this man. You know we’re supposed to be wary of strangers. What if he’s from Lord Rosskeene’s?” Finally, he caught up to her and grabbed her by the shoulder. “Chani, it’s going to be dark soon. Where are you going?”

  She looked up at him, then turned and pointed. “There.” Peyton turned to look and was amazed to see the little house. He turned back to her with a surprised look on his face and she smiled. “I told you. C’mon. He’ll help us. Hurry.”

  No sooner had they explained the situation to the old man than he went outside and saddled the ancient horse. He followed the two of them into the woods, leading the horse behind them. Nothing was said as they traveled the short distance and as they reached her mother, the old man knelt beside her and felt for a heart beat at her neck and then opened the little bag that swung at his waist and took out a small pouch. He opened it and held it under Isabella’s nose and in only a moment, she groaned and opened her eyes.

  For a moment, she looked frightened, then confused. Finally, she sighed and gingerly held out a hand to Chantaya. “I lost my balance and couldn’t catch myself. Are you well?”

  Chantaya gave her hand a squeeze and then looked guilty for a minute. Finally, she said, “I spoke to a stranger, Mama. I’m sorry. We didn’t know what else to do. He came to help you, though.”

  She nodded toward the old man. Isabella looked up at him, gave a tired smile and said, “Thank you, friend. Where did they find you?”

  “Just there in the wood. Do you think you can ride? Old Wallace isn’t much to look at anymore, but he’ll get you home safe. Are you up to it if I help you on?”

  With a grimace, she nodded. “Certainly. Please forgive me for being such a bother.”

  The four of them slowly trekked back through the wood and it did indeed get dark before they made it out. They met Willem just before they reached the Kincraig cottage. When they were so late, he knew there must have been a problem and came looking for them.

  When he saw the old man, his face showed his surprise and then he stepped forward and extended a hand almost reverently. “Sir Mordecai isn’t it? You were once one of the Great Council. I remember you well, even though I was only a child. Where did they find you?”

  The old man smiled serenely. “Where old knights go to live out their last days, I suppose. I built a stone cottage in the woods and try to stay out of everyone’s way. It’s been a good life for Wallace and me.” He gave a mellow smile again, but then reminded, “We need to get your neighbor in and see to her. She’s taken a nasty bump to her head.”

  Willem nodded. “Oh, yes. Let’s get her to her home.” The six of them trooped on and took Isabella inside. They helped her to bed, then Willem laid the fire and lit it while Peyton removed her shoes and Chantaya took the baskets and put them away. By the time the fire was lit, when Willem looked around, the old man was gone and all of them were surprised at his leaving so quietly.

  After puttering around the cottage while Chantaya made the dinner, Willem commented on what a fine help Chantaya was to her mother. Then as he had a cup of milk with the three of them before he and Peyton took their leave, he shook his head and said, “He was once one of the greatest knights in all the land. One of the King’s First Guards, he was. And known near and far for his bravery and loyalty and fierce defense of the crown. In his day, he was a legend. Who would have ever dreamed he lived deep in our woods?”

  SSSS

  ‘Twas only a few days later as they were working on their fort in the woods that Peyton said to Chantaya and Tristan, “Let’s go back to the stone cottage. I want to show our gratitude properly. We never even thanked him.”

  Chantaya agreed instantly, “And he has no family. He said he had come there to live out his last days and he mustn’t be so alone. It’s not good. I’m sure it’s not. We need to visit him.”

  With a nod Peyton said, “’Tis a pity he never had a wife and family. My father said he devoted the best of his life to preserving our safety and that of the kingdom of Monciere. That’s probably why he never got married. Felt he was too old or something by then.”

  Enthusiastically Chantaya said, “Well, we can be his family. I brought a carrot for his old Wallace horse and I even brought Sir Mordecai some honey cakes. I’ll bet he never gets many sweets without a wife to care for him.”

  Peyton laughed and ruffled her hair. “I’ll bet you’re right. At least not ones that taste as good as yours, Chani. Come. Let’s be heading to Sir Mordecai’s then. But, I don’t think we should tell our parents. I think your mother would worry and our grandmother would come apart at the seams. Our father’s mother hates anything to do with the idea of knights and battle. I don’t think our parents would mind, but if we don’t mention it, they
won’t have to answer to her. Let’s just go and keep it to ourselves.” She skipped up beside him, then took his hand and wrapped her other arm round Tristan’s waist as they headed deeper into the woods.

  When Sir Mordecai opened the door to their knock, they all three were more than a little bit nervous. He must have been able to see that as he gave them a smile that crinkled the sides of his eyes and made him much less intimidating. Peyton was the one who volunteered the reason for their visit. “We’ve come to thank you properly, sir. You left so soon the other night that we neglected to do so, but we truly are grateful. Truly. Sir.”

  Sir Mordecai nodded as Chantaya added happily, “I brought a carrot for Wallace, Sir. And some lovely honey cakes. I made them myself for you. I’m only nine, but I truly can cook. Try them, you’ll see.”

  “Can you now? I believe that you can from the looks of you. They do smell good. And Wallace is a fair hog for carrots, he is. Spoiled rotten for them. Although they still don’t make him gain much fat on his ribs. He’s old now, poor ancient beggar. And he’s aging faster even than his old master. ‘Tis sad I’ll be to see him go, when it’s time. He’s been a good campaigner. Brave and true ever.”

  The four of them headed toward the old horse with Chantaya skipping ahead and Peyton said, “Our father told us you were once one of the greatest knights of the kingdom of Monciere. A legend, he said. He said you were nigh to be the reason the whole kingdom didn’t fall when some old Lord Argyle tried to overthrow the king.”

  Sir Mordecai chuckled and said quietly, “Your father exaggerates. The king had things well in hand, I’m sure. But ‘twas good that he had those of us of the council and the soldiers to back him. It’s important to stand for what is right and fair.”

  Peyton nodded. “’Tis exactly what our father says. He was once asked to be a page, you know. His mother near expired just at the thought of it and he finally gave up trying to convince her. Lord Broughton chose someone else instead, but I think Father has always regretted that deeply. He would have made a fine warrior. He’s a good man, Father is.”

  They stopped at the old horse and Chantaya fed him her carrot as Sir Mordecai said, “He seemed a good man. And hard it is to go against a loving mother’s wishes when you’re but a lad. What did he end up doing? Your father?”

  “He’s a thatcher. And a fine one. But his heart was always far away with the soldiers. At least that’s what Mum always says. She says his mother stole his life’s dream from him and that that is a thing to be regretted. Squelching a man’s passion she calls it. Mother has always said that, although she loves having him home and safe, she’d rather have him truly happy.”

  Again Mordecai’s eyes crinkled. “She sounds to be a good woman as well. Although, I’d wager your father is happy as a thatcher with fine sons and a loving wife.”

  “He is. But there are times when they speak of what is happening with Lord Rosskeene and young Master Rosskeene and of the importance of having honor when one also has authority. I believe they worry about the future in the hands of the spoiled young master. He tries to gain riches by raising the taxes instead of raising the hopes of those on his lands. My parents say he doesn’t understand that what gives his tenants the passion to try harder is the hope of a better future. They say Lord Rosskeene would be far wealthier if he only helped his folks succeed, instead of discouraging them. It’s those times that my parents reflect on whether Father’s personal safety was more important than going to battle for right.”

  Sir Mordecai looked away toward the horizon for a moment, then said quietly, “We all must do that which we feel is best. That’s the truth of it. And who is to say what is correct? But we must be true to ourselves or live with the regrets. And in life there will always be some regrets, no matter which course we choose. Hopefully, we just have to live with the lesser regrets.”

  The two younger children had gone to pick handfuls of grass for the horse and Peyton looked up into the old man’s eyes and nodded thoughtfully, wondering just what the old knight was saying with that far-off look in his eyes. Still, he was right. Even as young as he was, Peyton knew he was right. A man had to stand for his beliefs or there would be huge regrets. He knew ‘twas true for his own father.

  They didn’t stay long. Then they walked back through the woods to their fort again with Chantaya bouncing along beside the boys, happy at how much Sir Mordecai seemed to have enjoyed her honey cakes, and Peyton more thoughtful beside her, wondering if they could go back again and visit with the intriguing old knight. Peyton had a million questions to ask and Sir Mordecai probably had a life’s worth of fascinating stories to tell.

  SSSS

  It had been more than six years since the stormy night of the cart accident had brought the Kincraigs to the village of Navarre, but still, there were occasions when a stranger would drop by the weathered old tavern to casually inquire about what had happened to the Kincraig woman.

  Invariably, the word would get back to Isabella and she and Chantaya would leave the little cottage and go stay in a small cave back in the forest for a couple of days until the stranger had been seen to leave town. At first, Chantaya hated staying in the cave, even though her mother had blankets and had brought food enough to keep them comfortable. The cave smelled of bears and they could hear the cry of wolves as they sat by their fire at night. Chantaya was always frightened.

  Finally, her mother tried to turn these occasional trips into an adventure and would tell Chantaya stories of a young girl who was brave beyond measure and longed for the chance to travel into the forest to learn of what was outside the realm of her small home life. When she told tales like that, Chantaya soon learned to enjoy the time spent away from the cottage and yearn for adventures like the stories.

  ‘Twas during one of these nights away in the cave that her mother stroked her soft dark hair and spoke to her of how Chantaya was going to be a great beauty someday. Her mother said it almost sadly and Chantaya wondered aloud what was wrong, “Why does that sadden you, Mother? Peyton says I will look just like you and he thinks that will be a wonderful thing. He says you are uncommonly beautiful. Is it not a good thing? To be lovely?”

  Her mother sighed again, although she smiled as she touched Chantaya’s long, silken curls. “No, darling, it’s a very fine thing to be uncommonly beautiful. And you truly are. ‘Tis just that I worry as well, Chantaya. Sometimes beauty attracts the attention of those who feel they are more powerful than our society. Sometimes being noticed isn’t purely a good thing.”

  Chantaya looked to her in confusion. “What do you mean, Mother?”

  Shaking her head, her mother said, “Nothing sweet one. You are far too young to worry about things like this. Shall we braid your hair up? And pull it out of the way? It will keep it from tangling into the bushes near the stream when we pick the mustard.”

  “You may pull it back if you wish, Mother, but it won’t stay. You know that. As I gather the herbs, it sometimes snags on the branchlets and tendrils pull loose until there are curls dangling all about my face and neck. It happens every time. Peyton laughs and pulls them like they are springs until sometimes I fairly want to whack him. He pure torments me sometimes. Tristan as well, but not near so as Peyton. If he didn’t smile and help me every time, I’m sure I would be sore vexed.”

  Her mother only smiled and said, “All boys are like that I’m afraid, daughter. And the fact that you are uncommonly lovely only makes you more fun to tease, I fear. You’ll have to get used to it and learn to ignore it somehow. It’s only bound to become worse as time goes on. At least it’s all in good spirits. I’m afraid that in time, the young ladies will become jealous and their teasing won’t all be fun spirited. Sadly, sometimes we women can be treacherous.”

  “What do you mean, treacherous, Mother?”

  Isabella Kincraig only waved a hand and stood to add another log to their small fire. “It’s nothing, child. Simply another one of those things you are far too young to consider. Come have so
me stew. It looks to be ready now.”

  “It smells wonderful, Mother.” She came to stand beside the fire as well and put a hand on her mother’s shoulder where she bent to stir. “I’m so lucky to have such a fine cook for a mum. The boys fair do my bidding for food when they come.”

  “And you’re nigh as fine a cook as I am, even at your tender age, Chan. ‘Twill come in handy in your lifetime, it will. Many’s the time that sumptuous fare has been a means to a good end. It’s not just boys who will learn to barter for a taste. Your father once bargained for a fine new horse if I would provide tarts to the master for the birthday celebration of the dowager aunt. My, but your father was proud of that horse. And he looked near as handsome as a bold knight sitting upon it, he did.” Her mother had a far off look upon her face that made Chantaya hesitate to intrude on her mother’s pondering.

  Finally, Isabella seemed to bring her thoughts back to the present and offered what she had dished. Chantaya accepted the wooden bowl of the stew from her mother and asked, “Do you still miss him?” Her mother nodded wordlessly, and softly Chantaya added, “Shall I pray, Mama?”

  Nodding again, her mother bowed her own head as Chantaya said a short grace and then quietly began to eat, wishing there was a way to ease that soul deep loneliness she could see in her mother’s eyes and that Chantaya could remember more of her father. The only thing she could truly remember was that he had been so tall and dark and such a very gentle man. ‘Twas a pity her memory was so hazy.

  SSSS

  Peyton finished unloading the reeds he’d delivered to where his father was working on one of the roofs of the village. He lifted several bundles up the ladder onto the roof for him, before climbing back onto the cart to go to the edge of the marsh south of town, to cut another load. As he went to slap the reins onto the cart horse’s rump, his father called down from the roof, “That’s fair enough to finish this one, Peyton. Go on home and find yourself some mischief. You’ve been a great help today. Thank you.”