Warrior's Moon A Love Story

by Jaclyn Hawkes

  SSSS

  Nothing could make Peyton regret his trip home to see Chantaya, but being asked to attend a gathering in the castle courtyard the next evening to demonstrate their latest training made him wish dearly that he’d gotten a little sleep. ‘Twas truly difficult to appear properly respectful to the king when he struggled to keep from yawning, and even more difficult to appear interested as Princess Clarissa wended her way down a line of squires to commend them. As she approached, he stood ever straighter, willed himself to be attentive and literally prayed not to yawn in her presence. He’d already gotten reprimanded for insulting the prince, the last thing he wanted to do, was offend the princess.

  Indeed, Princess Clarissa appeared far from offended as she smiled up at him and even leaned in a bit as she fairly gushed her praise in the military prowess he’d just demonstrated. He nodded, keeping his face completely stoic and struggling to suppress the yawn that threatened. He noticed the moon rising behind her shoulder and thought back to Chantaya again. That same moon was rising over the village of Navarre as well. He hoped she had been able to sleep in and rest before having to do her days work and that she wasn’t as weary in body as he was just then.

  When the gathering finally broke up, he said his farewells and headed back to the garrison. He fair collapsed into his bedding even as the others in the garrison were still talking and laughing around him. Turning on his belly, he pulled his pillow over his head and stretched out in exhausted pleasure. It had been a long two days and his body was stiff from the extra hours riding all night, but it had been heaven to see Chantaya. He grinned there under his pillow at the image of her climbing from her window, but then the grin relaxed as he remembered how she had felt in his arms. She had been pure heaven there, and she had looked unbelievably good in that nightgown.

  SSSS

  Peyton and Sir Kendall got only busier as the time drew closer to when Peyton would be officially knighted. There was much to do in preparation and Peyton was near overwhelmed with all he was to remember. Of an evening, when he finally stabled his charger and headed back to the garrison to obtain a few precious hours of sleep, he would often look up at that evocative moon and wonder how Chantaya was. Then, in his bed, he would pray for her. The time was fairly racing by because of how busy he was, but yet he missed her unbearably.

  SSSS

  Chantaya topped the last rise before Mordecai’s and knew immediately that something was wrong when she looked down upon his small cottage. He was outside in his horse’s pen, which was typically where she found him, but this time, instead of currying the old horse as it stood, Mordecai was kneeling beside the old white horse as it lay on its side in the pen. When Chantaya reached the two of them, she found just what she’d feared. Mordecai’s dear old Wallace had finally reached the end of his earthly existence and was unable to stand and didn’t appear to be long for this world.

  Going straight to Mordecai, she wrapped an arm around his waist and gave him a small squeeze and let the tears come to match those in the eyes of the elderly knight. She didn’t know what all these two had been through together, but she knew it was a lot and had formed a bond nigh unbreakable, even by death.

  Half the hour later, when Wallace finally breathed his last, Chantaya didn’t hesitate to pick up a shovel and help Mordecai begin to dig a hole in which to bury the sweet, old, trusty steed. The old campaigner deserved every bit as much of a burial as any other honored warrior. When it was deep enough, she helped him slide the old horse in and then cover him up again. Together, they prayed and then Mordecai stood by while she fashioned a small cross and buried it at the top of the mound.

  When their little service was over, she gave him a sad smile and offered him the covered basket of honey cakes she’d brought. Together they sat on the bench on the porch and looked out over the new grave, eating the sweets. At length, she said quietly, “Peyton is going to be pure sad he wasn’t here to assist us.”

  Mordecai nodded. “Ay, he will.”

  “He fair loved Wallace.” Again, Mordecai nodded, this time without saying anything. The silence stretched out as the two of them again let an occasional tear fall.

  At length, Chantaya knew she had to get back to go to the tavern and she stood. Mordecai stood with her and she hugged him round the waist and said, “I love you, Mordecai. I’m sorry you have lost your dear old friend. I must go, but I’ll be thinking of you two, and picturing him up in heaven running around like a two year old in a glorious pasture of emerald green, with God sitting on his own porch bench and watching the horses play.” Mordecai looked down and gave her a sad smile and she reached to kiss him on the cheek and then turned to head for home. Maybe remembering where Wallace had gone would bring Mordecai some comfort in his cottage all alone tonight.

  In her own home that night, she penned a letter to Peyton and told him about the old horse, and then put the letter with the others, wondering when she would be able to get them to Peyton. She missed him like she’d miss the sunshine.

  Chapter 9

  Chantaya stopped into the market on her way to the tavern with her basket over her arm. When Quigley Larimer’s eyes lit up and he heaved himself out of his chair to serve her, for the ten millionth time she missed Peyton. She always missed, Peyton, but especially when one of the local boys began paying her attention. For some reason, even if Tristan was with her, the locals seemed to have a much keener interest in her now that Peyton wasn’t always around and ‘twas pure tiring. She hated having to courteously slip away from them, and half the time she wasn’t even able to conduct her shopping. Tristan stepped into the shop behind her and she look up and met his half hearted grin as he took in the situation, but then she sighed and hurriedly made her purchases.

  On the way out of the shop, two of the other local girls came in and inexplicably, their appearance cheered Chantaya. They reminded her of how blessed she was to have Peyton, even if he was away in Valais right now. She, at least, was blessed with a handsome, virile and incredibly competent beloved. These poor other girls . . . What was to become of them?

  Later, in the tavern kitchen, Chantaya hummed to herself as she stirred a bowl of dumplings and dropped them into the kettle of simmering soup, then opened the oven to check on the mutton roasting there. Closing the oven, she absently brushed at the tendril of dark hair that had escaped to tickle her cheek and stepped to the back door of the kitchen for a moment of fresh air. The kitchen was stifling tonight.

  She cracked the door and peered out hesitantly, still a trifle nervous about coming out here by herself. She thought of Peyton rescuing her that night and glanced up at the moon rising over the hills to the east. ‘Twas comforting to know he was somewhere under this same moon tonight. She continued to look up, although her thoughts were far from the pale orb those wisps of cloud blew over and around. What was he doing tonight? Was he safe? Was he happy? It seemed he had matured ages when he’d come home that night.

  Mrs. Bealle came into the kitchen and Chantaya stepped back inside and pulled the door closed behind her. She needed to get back to her duties. There would be time enough to think about Peyton once she was safely home and in her little loft bed tonight. That had become her favorite time of day, of late; when she could finally relax and let her weary body rest and her mind go east to Valais and a handsome young squire who defended the crown. She breathed a familiar prayer for his safety and pulled a loaf of crusty bread to the board to slice. That mutton should be just about done by now.

  Carrying two plates in each hand, Chantaya took a deep breath, pushed through the kitchen door and approached the table of nobles who had dropped into the tavern. She had learned to ignore the banter of the locals, and didn’t typically let even the strangers make her nervous anymore, but there was something about the way one of these noblemen kept staring at her tonight that made her horribly uncomfortable. The moment he’d laid eyes on her he’d looked surprised and she could swear he’d whispered her mother’s name.

  He was still wa
tching her and the hair on the back of her neck prickled as she set his plate down in front of him. Then a moment later, as she refilled his tankard with ale it was all she could do not to flinch when he reached up to take it from her. He seemed to sense her reaction and it appeared to amuse him, but his smile did anything but calm her.

  Going back into the kitchen, she took another deep breath and went back to preparing the next plates, then was incredibly grateful when Mr. Bealle himself offered to deliver the rest of the meals to the patrons that night. They were definitely busy enough for Chantaya to keep occupied just in the kitchen.

  Both Tristan and his father showed up to escort her home that night. ‘Twas the first time that two of them had come to see her back and even that was disconcerting. Once safely inside the cottage, she shot the heavy bolt on the door and finally, truly felt safe as she visited her mother for a few moments before heading up to her loft to bed. She settled down into her comfortable quilts and stretched out luxuriously, then prayed for Peyton before dropping off to sleep.

  They were just headed out the door the next morning with their baskets to go to the woods and harvest herbs when Isabella pulled up so short that Chantaya bumped into her back in the doorway. As Chantaya looked up to see what had happened to make Isabella stop so suddenly, she heard a man’s voice say almost silkily, “Hello, Bella.”

  Her mother’s sudden step back and intake of breath made Chantaya feel instinctively protective as she looked over Isabella’s shoulder to see who had spoken. It was the nobleman from the night before and his glittering eyes as he watched Isabella’s reaction to him made the skin on the back of Chantaya’s neck prickle. He fair exuded evil as he stood there on their porch. Without even having to be told, Chantaya understood this man had been the reason they had hidden in the cave from time to time. He was probably the reason they had come here in the first place and ended up having that horrendous cart wreck that had killed her father.

  Surprisingly, realizing that her mother was frightened of this man made Chantaya almost switch roles of a sudden and she stepped around her mother and between her and this man and asked, “May I help you with something, m’lord?”

  The man was still staring at Isabella and pulled his eyes away to turn to Chantaya with obvious reluctance and then smiled almost sickeningly. “Yes, yes you can actually.” He glanced back at Isabella and then went on, “It has come to my attention that the two of you have been living here on my lands for years, it seems, without paying proper rent. I’ve come to tell your mother she has two days to resolve the rents due or go to debtor’s prison. Unless other arrangements can be made, of course.”

  Chantaya looked from the man to her mother and back and shook her head. “But this land isn’t part of your holdings. And a dispute would have to go before the magistrate at any rate. One can’t just toss a body into debtor’s prison without a hearing.”

  The man was watching her mother again. He smiled and said in that same, silky, disgusting voice, “Oh, but I’m afraid I can. Can’t I Bella?”

  Without preamble, Isabella ground out, “What other arrangements, Rosskeene? What is it you want?”

  Making a sound of disapproval with his lips, he said, “Such impertinence.” His voice lowered even further as he continued, “You know exactly what I want, Isabella. Don’t you? I’m afraid I still need that help in the kitchen you refused all those years ago. Good help is so hard to come by still. Either pay, or agree to come and work for me, or it’s prison for you, and the girl will be on her own. And you know I have the power to see it done.”

  Chantaya looked from one to the other and for the first time in her life, she saw hatred in her mother’s eyes. Hatred and fear. It made the need to protect her even stronger. Wondering what to do or say, Chantaya was still at a loss when Lord Rosskeene said, “You have but two days, Isabella, before I send someone to get you. And don’t try running this time. My men will be watching. I’ll be at the tavern in the village both tonight and tomorrow night for supper. Make your decision and let me know. ‘Twas good to see you again, Bella. I’ve been searching for you all these years. I’ve missed you.”

  He reached almost lazily to touch Isabella on the face but she jerked away. Lord Rosskeene only chuckled and turned to go back to his horse and said over his shoulder, “Two days, Isabella. Or your daughter is alone.” Climbing on his horse, he rode off, but two of the men with him remained behind, standing at the edge of the wood all but leering at the two women. Isabella turned abruptly and went back inside and shot the heavy bolt behind them.

  Chantaya still didn’t know what to say, but she was even more confused when her mother suddenly went to the wash basin and vomited violently into it. When she was finished, she wiped her mouth almost woodenly and then went to sit at the table, laid her head down upon her folded arms and began to silently cry.

  Watching her, Chantaya was horrified. Even though her mother was physically weakened and almost feeble sometimes because of her injuries from the cart wreck, she was never anything but emotionally strong, -all but tough almost, although she was ever gentle and soft spoken. She’d had to be tough to survive being so hurt and raising Chantaya without a husband in her home.

  The protective feelings became even stronger and Chantaya went to her mother and gently rubbed her back and said, “Twill be all right, Mother. We’ll figure this out. We’ll go to the magistrate. Heavens, if that doesn’t work, we’ll go to the king! He can’t get away with this. Not for long anyway. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. At the very least, we’ll go work in his household together. There’s no way you are up to working full time in the kitchen of a manor house and if we’re together, we’ll be safe enough. Take heart. We’ll be fine. The good Lord will watch over us.”

  Isabella raised her head and looked at Chantaya and then slipped an arm round her waist and hugged her and whispered, “Yes, He will. Forgive me for being weak. We’ll be fine.” She wiped at her eyes, but Chantaya could see she didn’t believe what she was saying and she sat next to her mother and wrapped both arms around her, wondering just what had happened in the past to make her mother so completely discouraged by one short visit from this evil nobleman. Whatever it had been, it had been truly troubling.

  Chantaya’s first thought was to run to Mordecai’s and speak to him of what was about, but with every glance out of the window, she knew they couldn’t chance a long walk through the woods safely and there was an anxiousness that made her forego that idea every time it arose. Even when she considered asking Tristan to go speak with Mordecai, she felt it wasn’t what she was to do and pushed it aside as well. Maybe ‘twas that they weren’t to let Lord Rosskeene’s men know about Mordecai’s living there. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling prompted not to speak with him, but she followed the prompting anyway.

  In the end, she decided to keep to their typical chores to attempt to comfort her mother, with only an occasional question thrown in to try to find a resolution to this dilemma that her fifteen years of experience couldn’t truly grasp. Still, the constant vigilance of the nearby men was thoroughly disconcerting and by the middle of the afternoon, when it was time for Chantaya to go to the tavern to work, they still didn’t have a solution.

  Tristan had gone to the local magistrate with a letter requesting an inquiry into Lord Rosskeene’s overstepping his boundaries, but Tristan had returned only to report that the magistrate couldn’t read and had told Isabella to come back in a fortnight for a hearing. The two men were still at the edge of the wood and had indeed set up a camp there and when Tristan and Willem came to take Chantaya to the tavern, they insisted Isabella come and stay with Rose for the duration. The men followed them. Lord Rosskeene’s threat to have them guarded hadn’t been in vain.

  His intention to eat at the tavern was carried through as well and although Mr. Bealle did all the serving in the dining room, when Chantaya went to the back door of the kitchen to discard her dishwater, there was a man outside standing in the dark there too.

/>   Afterward, during the walk from the tavern to the Wolfgar cottage, Willem and Tristan were unusually quiet and when they got to their home, Chantaya wasn’t surprised to find that she and her mother were to spend the night there and she was glad. Willem and Tristan were singularly comforting tonight, as were the other neighbors who lived close by.

  The family prayer the five of them knelt together to say was the most comforting of all. As they stood afterward to go to their beds, a sweet, warm peace crept into Chantaya’s heart that was infinitely calming. Regardless of whatever was to happen here, at least there was no doubt that their Father in Heaven was aware of them and would comfort them and guide them through it. As she settled onto a pallet spread with quilts next to her mother, Chantaya reached for her hand and spoke of the reassuring feelings of peace she was feeling. For the first time since that morning, Isabella seemed to feel that same reassurance.

  They spoke long into the night and at length, came to the decision that they would indeed have to go to work for Lord Rosskeene, at least until they could find someone of power to look into the illegalities of his demands. In the meantime, they would do all they could to stay together for safety. If they arrived at Rosskeene Manor and found it wasn’t safe enough, then they would do whatever they had to do to flee, even if it meant running in the dark of night again.

  In spite of having come to such a drastic solution, the peace remained and mother and daughter were able to go to sleep, knowing it would all work out in some way. In truth, neither one was sure of how, but they were sure that God was over all. And, after the fact, ‘twas comforting to know Mordecai was around, but that Lord Rosskeene wasn’t aware of it. Mordecai was old, but he was still incredibly competent and even more importantly, he had powerful friends who were honorable.