A Knight's Tale: Kenilworth

by Gabriella West

  News came that the King had attacked Northampton on April 3rd. Earl Simon immediately left Kenilworth with a group of reinforcements to help his son. Thomas and I continued our practice, as we did not like sitting around and speculating on what had happened.

  Late one afternoon, past the first week of April, I looked around and noticed a thin and weary-looking Simon standing at the door, sword at his side. “Go on,” he said quietly. He sat at the side of the room watching us. I advanced on Thomas and he dodged me, but in moving around so much he managed to trip, and I stood over him for a moment, looking down. It pleased me that Simon should see this, but it bothered me to put him in this position.

  Tom gave a rueful grin. “All right, damn it. You win.”

  I helped him up.

  Simon was standing beside us. “Very sportsmanlike. I like your footwork, Will. It’s good.”

  “Thanks, my lord and welcome home,” I said casually. I was trying to avoid looking at him. I had the faintest suspicion what he was really there for. “What news?” I asked. “Is the town secure?”

  “We lost the battle at Northampton yesterday. I thought you two would like to be the first to know here, besides Mother. I escaped and raced back as fast as I could. I’m unhurt, but they captured our entire garrison when they retook the town.”

  We both turned to look at him in shock. His face was pale and tense.

  “Does this end it?” Thomas asked.

  “Not a chance. No, it’s more of a beginning. A foul beginning, certainly.” He clapped Thomas’s shoulder and Thomas moved away slightly.

  “It’s lucky your father, Sir Hugh, was not among the prisoners.”

  “That’s true,” Thomas said.

  Even Simon seemed to notice his coolness now. “Well,” he said, “I should probably take my leave to go rest, but I’d actually like to show Will a trick while I’m here.”

  “I can stay,” Thomas said to me.

  “No, there’s no need,” Simon answered, drawing his sword. His tone brooked no argument.

  I nodded to Thomas and he shrugged, making his way to the door with slow steps. Simon followed behind him and slid the bolt.

  “I want to show you how to disarm someone,” Simon said to me as he returned. “I’ll disarm you. I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Thomas.”

  “It wouldn’t embarrass me,” I answered. The room seemed very quiet suddenly. It was awkward that we had not embraced in greeting, and frustrating that I longed to. “It might have been a useful thing for him to know.”

  “Oh, I doubt he’ll ever progress to that point,” Simon murmured. He had put on a thick white jacket and was advancing toward me, sword up. “Come, Will. Let’s see how you withstand this.”

  We had never fought together. It made me extremely nervous because his confidence and skill showed through, and I knew I was up against an opponent who would not spare me.

  We moved toward each other. Simon had a long reach, and I quailed whenever I looked at his face, his intent eyes. I tried not to look, tried to remember to keep my body in the right posture with my organs protected, my legs the right length apart.

  I was doing all the right things, but I had no fierceness in me. The bout lasted a few minutes, us circling each other silently, swords drawn and shields up. I parried a few blows, but it didn’t seem like he was trying hard.

  Suddenly he moved in, his sword twisting in a strange spiraling motion. With a clang, the sword flew out of my hand, wrenching my wrist.

  Instead of going to get it, I stood there, rubbing my wrist with the other hand.

  He looked at me. “I should force you to carry on, but I’m not going to. You’re tired and it’s not fair.”

  “Yes, you would always win,” I answered.

  I was sweating harder than him, breathing harder too. I dropped to my knees and flopped down on the mat.

  “I never have any fear when it’s Thomas against me,” I murmured.

  “Fear is exhausting, isn’t it?” He had dropped down beside me and lay close by. “You’ll be a good knight, Will. You have bravery, loyalty, and solid skills.”

  I turned to look at him. His face had relaxed and he looked tenderly at me.

  “It is good to see you again,” he murmured.

  “What’s the chance that I will die in battle?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I’d never let that happen. I’d always look out for you.”

  I was moved and looked away. “I’m not sure I will be any good in battle, my lord. I didn’t like the melee in Warwick. I never told you.”

  He chuckled. “Those horrible things! A real battle is different from that. There’s always a chance to get away. As you see.”

  Since I didn’t respond he said slowly, “Henry is a good soldier. Father is an excellent soldier; he loves his campaigns. And I like to keep moving. I’m a survivor, Will. I feel I can always avoid danger—avoid being taken.”

  “You can outrun death?” I asked seriously.

  He nodded. “If you will. I have a strong sense I’m not going to die for a good while yet, and you’re not going anywhere either. Don’t worry.”

  “What about your father and brother?” I asked.

  I saw him grimace. “I wish I could be more sure of their safety. Father has made himself a target of Lord Edward’s, no question. And Henry sticks by Father’s side. I can’t think about how I’d go on if anything happened to Henry. It would be difficult.”

  “You really love your brother,” I mused.

  He nodded. “I do love Henry. I’m fond of the others—Guy, Richard. Amaury,” he added as an afterthought. “But nothing could replace Henry.”

  “I pray nothing happens, then.” My words stuck in my throat because I saw in his darkened, focused eyes what he wanted to do.

  He unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off. “Let me do yours,” he offered, straddling me. I closed my eyes as I felt his body touching mine.

  “We have some privacy now, finally,” he said. “Shall we use it?”

  ***

  The mats were dusty and rough sometimes as my weight pressed against them. I didn’t mind because we were finally naked together, Simon and I, and our sweaty bodies fit together well. I tried to repress my moans but Simon said there was no need, that no one could hear from outside the door, it was so thick. I ran my hand over the light hair on his chest, his nipples, his muscled belly. His deep kisses made my head spin.

  “I brought something,” Simon said. He showed me a vial that looked very like the one in my room.

  “It’s goose fat,” he said. “It’s the simplest thing to use. But if you don’t want me to do it, tell me now.”

  He waited, hair darkened with sweat, a faint smile on his face.

  “Of course I want you to fuck me,” I told him. I could see him exhaling a sigh of relief, his eyes darkening even further.

  “Oh, thank God,” he muttered.

  “You thought I’d back out? No...”

  I waited quite calmly, which seemed to increase his desire for me.

  “On your belly or face up?” he asked.

  I liked that I was getting all these choices. “Face up, like this,” I said lightly. It amused me to treat it almost as nothing, when I had been obsessing and fretting about it for years.

  “Don’t be nervous, Will,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sure you are, even though you’re putting on a good show for me.”

  I watched him slick his finger with fat and bring it close to my hole. Then his finger moved inside.

  I moaned then, my eyelids fluttering.

  “You’ve never taken even a finger?” he asked. Then, as if answering himself, “God, you’re tight.”

  He captured my lips. When I returned to consciousness I realized he was using two fingers, moving easily inside me.

  “Good work,” he said with a smile. “This is really natural, you know. I don’t know why people say it’s unnatural... Tell me when you start to want it.”

  H
e managed to remain friendly and light while I knew he was intensely aroused, judging by his stiff cock, which I tried to stroke. Then I lay back, moaning helplessly. “Now...”

  He moved quickly over me, looking down into my eyes. “Keep your eyes open,” he whispered. “I want to see... There now.”

  He had spread my legs and tilted my hips back. He pressed inside me. My back writhed against the rough mat, and I knew it would be red and inflamed later, and I would be sore, but I couldn’t think about that then because Simon was thrusting into me with slow, deliberate movements, his mouth pressed against mine. Then he kissed my neck, nipping at it.

  He increased his speed. I gazed up, in full-on ecstasy now, my hands clasped around his back, blunt nails digging into him.

  “You feel so good. Oh, Will, so good...” he whispered.

  “Don’t stop, Simon,” was all I could moan.

  I have no idea how long we spent at it. I remember the room was dim as we finished, though not black, and his hands clutched my hair during the last moments, our heartbeats speeding up. We were so slick and sweaty that I wasn’t sure if he was still inside me. I just knew that I came and came and came and then was spent, entirely wiped out.

  And he gushed into me with a deep moan. I’d felt it, his warmth spreading, and wished we could make love a thousand times.

  He pulled me over on top of him when we were done.

  “Your poor back,” he said.

  Even in the dim light he could see my flesh was scraped and full of fibers.

  “You were gentle but the mat wasn’t,” I whispered to him.

  He laughed. “If anyone sees, you can say that you’ve been self-flagellating.”

  I knew what he meant, and smiled.

  “There’s just one thing,” he said after a while as we rested. “This whole thing about doing it once... It doesn’t really work in practice, you know.”

  I was about to answer something flippant, but something stopped me.

  “What should we do?” I asked instead. My voice sounded raw and rather vulnerable.

  He thought for a time.

  “We could make the most of it until you leave to get Stephen, and stop then. I’m afraid we won’t have very long.”

  “We could,” I said. “But won’t stopping be really hard?”

  “Yes,” he answered after a pause. “For me it certainly will, because I will have to let you go. But I think I can pay the price. I knew this was going to cost me.”

  We lay together entwined. “Simon, I worry that I won’t want Stephen anymore. After this.”

  “I understand,” he answered. “Which means perhaps we should stop now.”

  As if to solemnize the moment, the chapel bell tolled in the courtyard.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means Father must have returned—Mother told me he tried to come to our aid—and is letting everyone know we lost the battle.” His voice was heavy. “And he won’t be in a cheerful mood. He blames everyone around him in defeat. As all men do, I suppose. Yet he trusts the rules of war.”

  He stroked my hair. “I should get up,” I said. But I made no move and he gently rolled me over onto my belly, kissing my back, settling himself against me. His hardness against my backside prepared me for what was going to happen.

  He began to make love to me again. This time, with each exquisite thrust, tears came to my eyes. My breath was loud, ragged, and so was his. I pushed back against him, gripping his cock. We were both gasping.

  He was rougher and I wept afterwards in his arms, more from the violent pleasure of it than the pain. He spoke tenderly to me.

  After a while, Simon lit a torch on the wall. “Everything is different now,” I said, looking up at the wood-paneled ceiling. Stars had been painted on it against a deep blue background. It seemed very far away.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “I can’t describe it.”

  I stood up, wobbling, and he handed me my clothes one by one, helping me dress. When I looked down we had made surprisingly little mess. It seemed believable that no one would know what had happened here.

  “You’ve freed me,” I whispered to him, kissing him on the lips. He smiled.

  “You’ve captured my heart, Will.”

  I imagined his heart in my body, beating. I gave a little drunken-sounding laugh.

  “So this is what it comes to.” I ran my hand through my hair. “We shouldn’t have waited all this time.”

  “I’m incredibly glad we waited,” Simon said. “You were so ready. It was worth waiting several years for this.”

  He was in no hurry. I wondered if he would always have time for me now, or if I was imagining that. Perhaps tomorrow we would revert to knight and squire.

  “What will happen to us?” I asked.

  “I’ve no idea, Will. But I think you’ve earned the right to call me Simon. Don’t worry if anyone looks askance.”

  “I meant what will happen with the King and your father,” I whispered.

  “I know what you meant.” He pressed his lips against mine. “I’m no Stephen, but if you want my prediction...”

  “Yes,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his now-clothed body.

  “Things will go well for a bit despite yesterday’s setback—Father has a knack at seeing that they do. Then things will go badly for us. But I’ll make sure you’re all right, and I’ll make sure I get out as well. You must just follow what I tell you to do. If I ever need you to leave me, you must go. Promise?”

  We stood together under the flickering torch in the now-cooling room. But nothing could cool the fire inside me. I was warm and glowing, sparkling with happiness.

  “I promise,” I said. The thought of leaving him seemed remote. “But would life be that cruel, to part us?”

  He stared at me, his hand on my shoulder. “Haven’t you worked that out yet?”

  “It’s hard to see it now. You dazzle me.”

  His kiss was rough. “And you dazzle me, more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  We just stood there. Nobody came to bother us, and although I was ravenous, I did not want to leave the room.

  Neither did he, it seemed.

  He had put back on his sword belt, which he was entitled to wear, as a knight. I stood there unarmed, feeling soft and young beside him.

  “Should we go down together?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Why not?” he answered. “I’ll sit and sup with you downstairs, since we’ve passed the proper hour anyway, and I’m famished. I’ll speak with Father in the morning. Never mind the high table. My place is with you tonight.”

  End of Part Two

  Part Three

  Chapter 14

  May 1264–August 1265

  This is what I remember when I look back. We gathered on the crest of the Sussex Downs in the early morning of the 14th of May to confront the King. The town of Lewes slumbered peacefully below, though we could glimpse a few cooking fires. The royalist troops there had no idea of our presence yet.

  Earl Simon was masterful at that moment. As Thomas and I stood side by side, our lords Henry and Simon close by, we could not help trembling at his exhortation. You are about to fight, he cried out, for the kingdom of England, the honor of God, of blessed Mary, of all the saints, and of the Holy Church. The mass of men around us then dropped to the ground and lay flat, on his signal. Like them, we extended our arms and prayed for victory. Thomas and I kept glancing at each other in amazement. We were part of it now!

  Two mitered bishops moved slowly through the crowd, one of them the venerable Walter de Cantilupe. Each man would rise to his knees as the bishop approached. The murmured words “ego te absolvo,” heard over and over, lulled and reassured me. It was going to be all right, I thought. I gave a little smile to Tom and nudged him. His lips were pale with nervousness, the freckles standing out on his face. He seemed a little better after he had received absolution. Of course there was no time for deep personal confessio
ns. I was immensely relieved by that.

  We were given the white crosses of crusaders to wear. It seemed strange; I wondered what the King would think of a crusading army of Englishmen fighting against him. Symbolically, it was Earl Simon’s ultimate insult, perhaps. After all, years ago, he had been brought to trial by the King on what he considered trumped-up charges of harshness and corruption after his service in France. He had cried out to the King then, “Are you even a Christian?” His attitude had shaken everybody there and had allowed him to go free. Whenever he was judged by his peers, it seemed, his piercing words, backed by a manner of unshakable integrity, won the day.

  And we were to win the day at Lewes. All I can remember of that battle are a few vivid images. We swept down on horseback toward the town, gathering a great speed, Thomas and I still riding behind Henry and Simon. The sound of us coming towards them must have rattled the King’s men, who hurriedly assembled. Although they outnumbered us, they were surprised. The Lord Edward and his men made the tactical mistake of charging the Londoners who were on foot behind us, whom our cavalry had shielded. His troops pursued them several miles. Once he was gone, Earl Simon fell upon the rest of the King’s army. The King and his brother Richard of Cornwall were both fighting that day, and had a bad time of it.

  I remember watching a lone knight, whom I heard later was Richard of Cornwall, flee up the great hill to a windmill, just over the crest of the Downs to the west. He would be captured there. The King, meanwhile, had his horse killed under him twice. He was on foot, shaken, terrified of being killed. He removed his helmet. I saw his grey curly hair, his flushed face, his wild eyes. In a panic, he shouted out, “I am Harry of Winchester! I am Harry of Winchester!”

  For a moment I wondered if I would see the King killed before me. But no, Earl Simon was not that ruthless. Surrounded by his knights, the King somehow managed to retreat to a priory in the town of Lewes, where the shaken and angry Lord Edward was later to join him after it was clear that they had lost the battle. Since the priory could not be attacked without bloodshed and ill repute to the Montfort cause, a hasty compromise was worked out that night. Edward and Henry of Almain were to remain as hostages, while the prisoners taken at Northampton were to be freed. The King was now forced to accept the Provisions and pardon the barons, which seemed like a great victory. But the tough marcher lords like Mortimer, Edward’s fervent allies, were to go free, posing a huge threat to us all in the long-term.